


here comes the sun

by castielfalls, starsmora



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain Marvel Spoilers, F/M, Post GOTG2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielfalls/pseuds/castielfalls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsmora/pseuds/starsmora
Summary: when things go bad, don’t go with them.in which nebula and yondu die after the events of gotg2 and peter and gamora are trying to get better in spite of it all.





	1. Chapter 1

It feels like maybe a year or two had passed but in reality, it’s only been a short while. Maybe it’s supposed to feel like that when everything happens all at once. As far as the rest of the team were concerned, they were still mourning Yondu. It was understandable, considering that his funeral had happened only a little while ago. Even the other Ravagers decided to show up and honor him. It was nice to see Yondu getting the respect he deserved. Gamora always felt that Yondu wasn't appreciated to his full extent. It was a shame that restoring his honor came only because of his untimely death.

The events of the day are still playing over in Gamora's mind, the shades and colors twisting in her memories. So much had happened; in only moments, life-changing events occurred. Out of the entire team, she knew Peter was impacted the most by Yondu's death. For a long time, and the largest portion of his life, Yondu served as his father figure. Sure, he'd been far from perfect —joking around about eating Peter if he didn't listen or using him as a tool to help with thieving. In death though, it was obvious that the alien had a soft spot for Peter. Maybe he didn't do the entire fatherhood thing correctly. However, he owned up to that. Peter didn't want to talk about Yondu's death but she had a feeling that they must've exchanged words before he died. Yondu got the chance to redeem his honor and be the father he always wished to be.

Her mind keeps flickering back to something else, a spark of a memory so sharp, it shocks her body into the moment. Destroying Ego was probably the team's biggest unintentional mission to date. It shouldn't, and probably couldn't, have been possible without Peter being half-Celestial. Regardless of the fact that his powers were far underdeveloped to his biological father, it still gave them a fighting chance to destroy him. Her heart aches for Peter — to imagine what he's going through right now and how he’s feeling is almost too much to bear. No, actually, it _is_ too much to bear. While the rest of the team is mourning Yondu's loss, it seems they have entirely forgotten about Gamora's own grief.

 _Nebula_. Nebula had been on Ego's planet too, during the final battle and eventual explosion. Gamora still remembers — when she woke up from being tased by Rocket. Her body recalls the aching deep in her bones and the fiery panic rising in the back of her throat. All her mind could focus on was Peter and if he was alright. There was something relieving in opening her eyes to see Peter on the quadrant and,  for just a moment, the anxiety in her gives way.

“ _Peter. You're here. I thought — I thought you were gone. Groot told me you were still out there. I was going to follow you because we're family. We don't leave anyone behind._ ”

There is a familiar tightening in her chest upon recalling that conversation. All that her mind can fixate on now, in the wake of Yondu's funeral, is Nebula. Her sister; her only surviving family member that had perished on that unforgiving paradise of a planet. That's what Ego’s plan was; essentially, a paradise too good to be true. Maybe if she had voiced her concerns to Peter sooner, Nebula could've escaped or they could've stopped Ego. Either way, the memories and losses were eating away at her consciousness slowly. The complicated relationship she had with her sister had been a direct result of their adoptive father's doing.

  
“ _You were the one who always wanted to win and I just wanted a sister! You were all I had._ ”

 _Were._ The past tense, much like what her sister's life was like, now being left on the debris and remains of Ego's planet floating in space. Gamora works hard to maintain her composure, squaring off her shoulders and staring into the deep space at the vibrant stars. It wasn't easy to tell when she was dealing with something. There was no reason to cause worry amongst the rest of the team so she just kept her feelings to herself. None of them ever seemed to question it anyway. After all, she was Gamora, the strong-hearted warrior assassin. In their minds, they took it at face value that she could handle any situation thrown her way with her reserved, cool personality.

Like Gamora, Peter is still aching, the wound of Yondu’s passing still fresh in his heart. He blamed himself for it all. Yondu may have still been alive if Peter decided against going to Ego’s planet. He wished he had recognised Yondu as his father figure earlier. It felt as if it had all been stripped away too quickly and too soon. Literal moments after Peter had finally come to realise Yondu was like a father to him, Yondu had pressed the space suit onto his chest and let his own skin freeze over in the cold vacuums of space. Peter watched frost crawl over every inch of Yondu’s skin, down to the fingertips that gently patted his cheeks in comfort. It was as if Yondu had told him it was all okay.

It wasn’t okay, not at all. In one day, Peter had lost both his biological father and the man he’d decided was his true father. He hadn’t been that upset about killing Ego, but Ego was still his blood relative. The man he’d been wishing to meet his entire life. It was heartbreaking to find out that the man his mother had described as an angel turned out to be the most cruel demon Hell had to offer.

Peter used to say David Hasselhoff was his father, and he wished it didn’t take him that long to realise that Hasselhoff did end up being his father. Yondu had been just as fantastic as the celebrity, if only he hadn’t been so caught up with this false fantasy of his father being an angel.

He’d been tearing himself up about it since he and Yondu had returned to the ship. ‘What if’s and ‘maybe’s flooded his mind, possibilities endless in the abyss of his grief. He has officially lost all his parental figures, and both had been at the hands of a monstrous being by the name of Ego. He’s given Yondu’s arrow to Kraglin a while ago, though he’d come to regret the decision hours later. Though, he gathers, it’s more fair to give it to Kraglin. He had the Zune, after all. Yondu must have gone out of his way to find it. Not many humans explored space, Peter could confidently say he was the only Earth-dweller in space. The Zune must not have been easy to come by, and he’d saved it specially for Peter. He was not going to let anyone crush it like Ego did with Meredith’s Walkman.

After the funeral held by the Ravagers for Yondu, Peter had retreated to the back of the ship, alone with the Zune. The funeral had been, in one word, beautiful. Fireworks of every colour exploded before their eyes in a gorgeous array. Yondu’s burnt body floats through the fireworks, melting into the beautiful display fitting of Yondu Udonta. They’d watched it together, seeing the Ravagers come together for the first time in a long time to bid Yondu farewell.

Now that it was over, Peter sits alone and listens to _Father and Son_ by Cat Stevens. He’d played it beforehand, listening to it with Groot. Now, he listens to it alone. An empty feeling settles within him, like a void that can’t be filled. He stares out into the dark vast void that is the galaxy. Nothing in the stars, nothing in the dark, nothing in the galaxy that can ease the utter devastation he feels. Once he sits down, he feels like a weight rests on him, stopping him from getting up again.

He glances across the room, noticing Gamora standing near the window, staring into space as well. Her posture is rigid, face stoic, but Peter knows better. She’d lost Nebula, right after repairing her relationship with her. Peter knows exactly how she feels. He’s aching, so deeply that the grief slips through the cracks in his soul out of his eyes as tears. He wipes it away, assuming a strong outlook. Time to be a captain. Gamora needs you to be a captain right now.

“Gamora?” Peter calls out, walking over to her slowly. “How are you feeling?”

The interruption of the silence startles her out of her memories. Her natural instinct kicks in and she whirls around to quiet the noise. A mixture of surprise and relief floods through her at the sight of Peter. It was just his voice… that annoyingly adorable voice. Now wasn't the time for discussion or conversation. She enjoyed brooding in complete silence whereas Peter is the direct opposite. Where she enjoys the length of solitude, he always needs to have company or be making some kind of sound to ease the silence. Smoothing the curls of her hair down, she lets out a sigh. Better now than never, right?

“Oh. Hey, Peter.” Her voice comes out sounding small and somewhat strained. It’s a pathetic attempt at being indifferent on her part. She had already noticed he was in the room even before he announced his presence due to her enhancements. “I'm fine.”

 _Fine._ The word comes out flat and with no emotion whatsoever. Maybe it would sound a little concerning but, for Gamora, she learned that being fine was good enough. It could be worse. She could have been the one who died on Ego's planet or the one who died saving Peter. Either of those fates appealed to her and seemed remotely more acceptable than the one she received. For years, Thanos had exacted extreme torture on Nebula, extracting pieces of her body limb by limb until almost no natural parts were left. Between of the two of them, Nebula always deserved a second chance at a better life. They both did, realistically, but when it came down to it, Gamora would trade anything to have her sister back… even if it meant her own life.

Maybe Peter felt like he was able to relate to her but what did it matter if he did? That hollow place inside of her chest was aching. Nothing could ever replace Nebula. No amount of memories that she could scrounge up would ever suffice. How could Peter possibly understand that? While he had a strained relationship with Yondu, it was markedly different to her tense relations with Nebula. If it was true, and she had to assume that it was, Nebula died without avenging the years of torment and pain. That wasn't something Gamora could live with. Even Yondu was better off, scouring the galaxy with the rest of his Ravager group but still having a place where he belonged. She was an outlier and so was Nebula. The only thing they were ever made good for was combat.

The question Peter asked still left her with a sense of discomfort. Perhaps now it was time to turn the tables on him, a classic move she always pulled to divert the conversation from herself.

“So, how are you holding up? In the wake of Yondu and all that happened back on Ego, I'm sorry you had to go through all of that. I know it must be hard for you right now. You know you're not alone though, right? You've got the rest of the team. We're your family.” Did any of these words hold the same meaning for him as they did for her? It was one thing to find a family and one thing to lose one without realizing it at first.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter replies, leaning against the wall to talk to Gamora. He knows they’re his family. He can’t help but feel like he’d let some part of that slip away. “I just feel like I let Yondu down. You know, he always tried his best to keep me safe. I still don’t like his jokes about eating me, but he… He tried. And I didn’t get to pay him back for any of that. I really… I really let him down.”

“You know, he was really proud of you, Peter. You took his advice. Back when it looked like we were all going to die on Ego, you listened to him. He didn't fly the arrow with his head but with his heart.” Her throat tightens and she has to pause the conversation to swallow roughly. It hurts to breathe, or even think, but she's so used to being the source of comfort for the rest of the team. Nothing else mattered but making them all feel at peace even if she wasn't.

“Back there, when you took his advice and followed it, I'm sure it meant everything to him. I know you wish things could be different. You had a really amazing father figure in your life. It's true that sometimes we just don't realize what we have until it's…” The statement chokes up in her throat and she shakes her head to clear it. There was no point in finishing that.

“Gone,” Peter finishes her sentence. He looks up at Gamora, trying to see past her strong poise. He knows he might not get anything out of the warrior. She’s too selfless for her own good sometimes. Instead, he just says, “I’m sorry about Nebula.”

“ _Don't_ .” The words came out sounding defensive. It probably wasn't the reaction Peter was looking for but something about just _hearing_ her name out loud rubbed against raw nerves. She wasn't ready to start talking about Nebula with anyone, let alone hearing condolences from the others.

Peter flinches slightly at Gamora’s raised tone, but he doesn’t say anything else. He hadn’t expected the strong reaction from her. He simply folds his arms and waits for her to say something else.

“I don't want to talk about it, okay? I don't _need_ to talk about any of it.” Everything about Gamora's body language said otherwise, down to the strained, pained sound of her voice. Her shoulders hunch even closer together as she defiantly stares Peter down, as though challenging him to disagree with her. It was too much to imagine the others actually noticing her agony. She would have to try harder to keep it a secret.

“Okay, okay. Fine,” Peter mutters, raising his hands as if surrendering. He thought Gamora would have wanted to talk about it. He’d spent a while talking about Yondu to Groot, even though the young tree didn’t really understand what he was saying. It had felt good to vent, so he assumed it was best to get Gamora to open up. Though, looking at her reaction, it seemed like a bad choice. It’d been out of goodwill, and his responsibility as captain, to ask, but he guessed not. “You don’t have to say it like _that_. None of us feel good about any of this.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, okay? What I mean is I don't really have to talk about it the way you do with Yondu. It's…” _It's not going to bring her back. Nothing will. She's gone._ Closing her eyes, her hands wrap tightly around to hug her sides. “It's okay, Peter. Really. I'm fine. Shouldn’t you be checking in on Rocket? Outside of you, he was probably hit the hardest by Yondu's death as well. You should go check up on him. You know, make sure he's okay. I'll check up on him later. You know I always do that anyways.”

“Not until I make sure you’re okay,” Peter insists. Not as to say Rocket was less important, but he just can’t call himself a good captain if he just leaves Gamora while she’s clearly not feeling good. Gamora must be hurting so badly. Peter can only imagine the ache in her bones, the emptiness in her heart. It’d been a hard day for everyone. Peter makes a note to check on Rocket later on as well, the raccoon having become Yondu’s friend just hours before losing him, but Gamora is the priority right now. She’d lost Nebula, literally after just making up. At least, Peter hopes they’d made up. Peter can’t speak for Nebula, the fearless fighter being merely an acquaintance to him, but he’s sure Nebula forgives Gamora for their past.

“I’m sure she’s forgiven you. She went back for me for your sake,” Peter says, trying his best to placate her. He knows nothing he says will ever be enough. Their pain is still different, no matter the similarities. He can only hope he provides some semblance of comfort, no matter how temporary it is. It’s all he can do for her.

Her back runs rigid at the mention of forgiveness and an unintentional snort comes out. Forgiveness wasn't something Gamora deserved, not when she roamed the galaxy freely while her sister was spread out all over the galactic skies. “You can’t know that for certain, Peter. Our childhood was nothing like yours with Yondu. It was, and still is, different. I was the favored child between the both of us. No matter what, I was the one who received preferential treatment and what was Thanos’ form of that? Do you know what that is? The basic needs of life! I mean, come on, why do you think my sister was almost completely a robot? He tore her apart, limb from limb, and I never considered what he was doing to her!” Her arms flung up in irritation, eyes wide with a deep rooted anger. It wasn't anger at Quill, but rather anger at the situation, at the universe.

“Gamora, wait—“

Primarily, she was angry at herself. She didn't deserve the forgiveness. “For the record, Quill, you _did_ get the chance to pay Yondu back. You saved the entire universe. You became a two-time galaxy saver.” The fiery ball of anger continued to build up inside of her chest, gnawing at her insides. It felt like a heavy weight was crushing her lungs, the air in her chest constricting.

“There's always going to be a difference between these losses we experienced, Quill. Please don’t think you didn't make Yondu proud. I know you did. You've always been the better out of both of us. At least you didn't let Yondu die in vain.” For a brief moment she feels a new sensation in her eyes. It's a hot prickling laced with slight burning. She quickly squeezes them shut and tightly until the disgusting tears are forced back down.

“I’m just… sorry. You know? I wish things were better,” Peter mumbles. “Everything sucks right now.”

“You can say that again,” Gamora affirms quietly as she falls silent alongside of Peter. There would never be a proper burial or funeral for Nebula. Nothing would feel right about it. Try as she might to say otherwise, the only thing most of the team knew her for was being against Gamora. Rocket knew her from being sold to the Ravager clan that planned to kill him and Yondu for a bounty. She didn't have the best track record with the rest of the team so it would be pointless to hold a funeral. Sometimes, Gamora never liked to admit it, but sometimes it felt like the only person in the world who cared about her was her sister. Now she's just… _gone_.

“You know, I was just trying to help you. I get that I can’t, but you gotta stop trying to shut me out. You said it yourself, Gamora. We’re family,” Peter mumbles. He knows he probably doesn’t understand. He knows she thinks he’s being obnoxious or something. He might be, Peter won’t deny that this isn’t the first time he didn’t know how to act. He adds on, “Maybe I overstepped. I’m sorry. But I care about you, I don’t like seeing you so upset, not if I can help it. If you think I can’t, then fine, but at least don’t shut me out.”

Peter feels hurt, which is just stupid. He isn’t in any position to feel hurt over her reaction. He probably deserved it. Sure, he and Yondu had a rocky past, but he realised that it’s nowhere near Nebula and Gamora’s heated rivalry. He’d overstepped when he thought he understood her.

The blind rage was settling in her stomach enough for her to recognize a familiar emotion on Peter's features: hurt. Whether intentional or not now it seems that she hurt him too. She _hurt_ him. Her mind simply couldn't wrap itself around that. What was she even doing? All he wanted to do was offer an attempt at helping. Instead of the ache in her chest clearing up it begins to clog itself with agony. Why couldn't she do anything right? Not the situation that developed with Nebula and now not with Peter. _Maybe joining the team was a mistake._

 _Don't shut me out, Gamora._ The words are so achingly familiar that a stray tear slips down her cheek. It's hard to maintain composure as the memories keep flooding back. She can still recall the first day she met Peter and shortly after Rocket, Groot and Drax. She remembers fighting with Nebula. How she wished her sister was able to see the good that came with the team they wanted to become.

 _Come with me._ It wasn't like she didn't try to convince Nebula to join them. It wasn't her fault her sister rejected the invitation… but it _was_ her fault for abandoning her. She stole the orb, very obviously aided the guardians in intercepting the plans for it, and became a hero. All of that without Nebula. It wasn't right no matter how she tried to justify it.

“It's not _fair_ ,” Gamora whimpers, her voice cracking with sadness. How was it fair? It didn't matter if she wanted to follow Peter and the others. She _abandoned_ Nebula to that monster of a so-called “father”. The decision was consciously made to leave her sister at the disposal of one of the worst beings in the galaxy. She just _let_ it happen.

“We're family, I know that. It's just…” Her voice quivers and she can't bare to look at Peter any longer. “It's not about you, Quill. It's nothing personal. I know how… how convenient it is to say this but really, it's not you, it's me. You're doing your best.” She didn't deserve his best, not even for a second, but he wouldn't understand that.

“Well, is there any way I can help? I don’t feel good leaving you feeling like that,” Peter says. He feels helpless about it, he doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t get it, he never will, and it proves disadvantageous when trying to comfort Gamora.

“I think this is just something I need to live with or, at least, something I need to get used to living with. I'm not trying to shut you out because you did nothing wrong. I'm just… can't you let me just…” Her voice falters and she shakes her head again. It was going to be so much harder to have this conversation than she thought.

“ _Okay_ . My bad, _sorry_ . I’ll just…” Peter trails off, making a vague gesture to say that he’s leaving her alone. He’s trying to not let it get to him, but Gamora’s tears and suppressed rage somehow get interpreted to him as ‘this is your fault. She probably wouldn’t be crying right now if you hadn’t mentioned Nebula earlier on’. “It was stupid of me, okay? Sorry.” He hates that a twinge of impatience makes its way into his apology. He meant it, but he can’t help feeling a little mad at himself. Before the Guardians, he’d never really had anyone to comfort. None of the Ravagers expressed their grief in any other ways except in drink, and Peter was dragged into that coping method, whether he liked it or not. He’d had a few years to learn how to comfort each member of his new family, but that didn’t mean he _always_ knew how. He blamed himself for that.

“How I’m behaving has nothing to do with you. I appreciate that you want to help me, I do, but I just think Rocket could use the assistance more.” She was still lying and she knew it. It was useless to keep poking the truth around with a stick. Eventually everything would come out as it always did.

Peter insists, one last time, because giving up just didn’t feel right, “Gamora, not like I’m an expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure suppressing your emotions isn’t good. You gotta let it out sooner or later, and I wanna be there for you.” Peter feels like a wall is being built between them, with every word exchanged serving as another brick on the foundation of Nebula’s demise. “You deserve to have someone help —“

“I _don't_ deserve you!” The words just blurted out of her mouth before she could notice. Those tears she held back for so long start to sprinkle down onto her cheeks. “I don't deserve you. I… I should've stayed with her, I should've stayed. I left her with a monster and now she's gone forever! She's gone and there's nothing I can do about it, Quill. I don’t resent you. I don't hate you. I don't mean to shut you out!” Her fingers are tugging at strands of her hair anxiously. All of these feelings were so overwhelming and they were hitting her all at once.

Peter stares at her silently, speechless from her outburst. Of course she deserves him. Gamora deserves each and every one of these beings in the ship. They were all here for her because they wanted to be. A million thoughts run through his head, each one worse than the last, about Gamora. The thought that she might quit the team out of guilt or take her anger out in a bad way worries him, especially if Gamora is thinking like that.

“Please just… I just need a little time, Peter, okay? Time by myself. It's nothing you did. This isn't about you. I just can't believe I left my sister with Thanos. I left her with him for you… for the team. I know I gave her the choice to follow us and she declined but… I shouldn't have just left her like that, Peter. I was all she had,” She wipes the back of her hand against her eyes and sniffles.

“Look, if you want to talk, I’m here. Just… don’t snap at me about it, okay? I’m bummed out and you’re clearly upset too. I wasn’t trying to be a dick, I just wanted to help. I overstepped and I’m sorry,” Peter says, beginning to leave the room. He wanted to stay, talk out Gamora’s feelings with her and see if he could do anything, literally anything, to make her feel more at peace. Though they’d had a rough history, Nebula did save Peter. She saved Rocket and Yondu from certain death by the Ravagers as well, Peter was sure. He didn’t mind if Gamora would like to have a funeral for her. Though there was no body to burn or bury, Peter thinks funerals have a way of providing closure. If it helped Gamora, Peter was willing to do it.

“I’m sorry, please… just go. Just leave me alone. I didn't mean to snap...” Why did everything always have to be so _hard_ for her? Nothing ever made sense when she did it, and now she stands up to shake her head. “Go, please.”

“I’m gonna check on Rocket. Talk to me when you want to,” Peter says, leaving. He wanted to help, but he can’t when she refuses it. He only hopes she won’t think he’s being an asshole about any of it.

* * *

The little raccoon is sitting on his own in the captain's chair. It was the residential spot he had taken up just after the Ravager funeral and he hasn't budged ever since. The rummaging around of objects and the rustling signaling another team member was coming were welcome in the silence. “Who is it?” Turning in the chair, he raises one eyebrow and sighs. It was Peter. He didn't have the energy to joke around or mess with Quill right now like he usually did.

“Uh, hey. So… um, how are you holding up?” He asks awkwardly, playing around with the navigation features as their ship floats aimlessly in space. They had nowhere to be in specific. He just didn't really feel like having a conversation with Quill about this right now. “What were you two arguing about now?”

“Her sister,” Peter replies, shrugging to play it off as nothing. He didn’t need other people getting involved in his and Gamora’s argument. “Nothing you gotta worry about.” He plays with one of Rocket’s tools blankly before he says, “And it doesn’t really matter how I’m holding up. I’m actually here to ask about you.”

Rocket is aware it probably isn't the time for wise, witty comments but he can't help himself. “Uhh, Quill, not to toot my own horn but… you know I have enhanced hearing, right?” His ears twitch back and forth dismissively. Of course Rocket had heard the entire conversation that transpired between them. “Though, in all honesty, you probably didn't need scientifically enhanced hearing to hear any of that. She was practically ready to tear down the wall with her shouting.” His paws move quickly over the joystick, pulling it back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

“Besides, you're the one who called us family. If that's the truth, then shouldn’t I be able to express occasional concern for my fellow associates?” A quiet snicker sounds from his throat but just like that it fades back to silence. Peter's facial muscles didn’t move at all, his lips not even twitching into the faintest traces of a smile. Okay, if _Quill_ isn’t laughing, _now_ was the time to seriously stop joking around.

“Seriously, Peter, if we're all family, I don't see the harm in caring for Gamora. I already care for Groot full time. You know how demanding he can get. If you want to talk to Gamora, you need to let her do it on her own terms. I've noticed she likes physical comfort. Should've probably offered her a hug, but what do I know? I'm just some talking woodland beast according to Nebula.” He flicks a coin in the air before sighing again.

“Yeah, I know. I probably went too far,” Peter mumbles. “I backed off.” Peter doesn’t say any more on the topic of Gamora after that, and he returns to their original conversation about Yondu.

“You know, the two of you kind of hit it off or something, right? He was your friend, you’re allowed to feel upset about him,” Peter says, sitting down in another chair next to Rocket’s. Peter didn’t even want to say Yondu’s name out loud, in the case that he just breaks down sobbing once again. He hoped the raccoon would open up for once. He’s known to not be the best with emotions. Then again, Peter was sure everyone in the team didn’t have good track records with managing their emotions. Grief, in particular. The conversation with Gamora earlier had been an example, but Peter refusing to let himself feel anything for now is probably stone-cold evidence. As captain, his team came first. He’d had the funeral to mourn Yondu, which was a hell lot better than what Nebula got. He felt a little off about being upset about Yondu after the argument with Gamora. He felt guilty, actually. So he’d resigned to acting like he’s over it. Maybe it’ll help Rocket. If he can’t help Gamora, he wanted to help Rocket.

“I know I'm allowed to feel upset,” Rocket says quietly as he looks down at his tiny paws. “Why do you think I made a replica of Yondu's fin? I know we gave it to Kraglin, but it was always to honor the memory of the fallen. While Yondu is gone, his arrow lives on.” Eyeing Peter somewhat, he shrugs his tiny shoulders. “He was your father figure. You've got every right to be beside yourself too. At least he got a proper funeral surrounded by the group be dedicated his life to.” Wiping at his snout, he sighs and feels the weight of the world on his chest.

“How’s Groot feeling about all this?” Peter asks. Knowing how young the tree was, it would come to no surprise if Groot wasn’t too badly affected by it. He probably wouldn’t even remember Yondu when he got older. It hits him hard, the thought that Groot will grow up without remembering Yondu. It wasn’t fair. Sometimes, Peter wishes he was just as young as Groot so he could just forget everything he’d been through. He just relies on the strongest alcohol he can find across the galaxy and for one night, just forget his pain. He hadn’t had the time to drown his sorrows in drink since Yondu died.

“Groot's okay. You know how he is, he's always more worried about me than anything else. I know he understands that we'll never see Yondu again. Sometimes he asks after him and I don't really know what to say.” Looking over at Peter again, an empty look in the man’s eyes, Rocket’s hair begins to bristle with a snort. “You know your problems won't flush away. If anyone needs a drink, it would be me for having to put up with all of you.”

Peter lets out a dry, humourless laugh at Rocket’s quip, but just says, “Beats feeling like shit all the time. It’s a few hours of oblivion.” He obviously wasn’t going to make it a habit. Peter liked drinking, but he wasn’t an active alcoholic. He only drank when the occasion deemed it fit, like a celebration. Or, you know, if he just wasn’t feeling like the legendary Star-Lord and more like simple Peter Quill. “Since when have _you_ cared if I wanted to drink?”

Rocket nods and twitches his ears, acknowledging the truth in Peter's statement. “As much as I'd hate to say it, you're right about something, Quill, I know you're right about that. A few hours of oblivion is sometimes all you need.” Sitting back and staring at Quill, he props himself up ever so slightly. It surprised him that Peter questioned his concern for him.

“Look, don't be thinking I'm getting all soft on you now, okay? I'm still the official unofficial captain of this ship!” Leaping down from the chair and climbing onto the center console, Rocket stares more levelly at Peter now. “I just need to make sure my team is in good shape, you copy? It ain't easy holding a band of people like us together.” That was true; more often than not, they always found themselves at odds with one another.

“I'm just saying not to turn to other means to solve your problems or ignore them. Sometimes, you're gonna have to learn to face things the hard way, Quill. That's just how the universe works. I had to accept that when those scientists kept tearing me apart and putting me back together over and over. I never asked for any of that! Does anyone ever listen to me though? Does anyone!? No!” Leaping down from the console now, he gives his body a quick shake before walking towards the ship's window. It faced the vibrant galaxy but, in the wake of Yondu's and Nebula's passing, everything lost its shine.

“I… I just want you to know you don't need to worry about me too much. It was just really nice finding a friend in Yondu. I get that all of us are a family and I had a lot to lose back there, but…” He sighs and feels his shoulders begin to droop. “It was just… nice to have someone who really understood. They didn't hate him, abandon him or chase him away even when he was mean all the time.”

Peter nods in agreement. He could hear the double meaning behind that statement. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better about any of this? It’s just crap right now,” Peter asks.

“You're right for once, Star-Man. It is just garbage right about now. There's nothing we can do about it… unless you wanna go exploding moons or something.”

* * *

Peter just feels really tired with everything. Tired from the fight, tired from killing his biological father, tired from watching his adoptive father die, tired from the funeral. Tired with just _being_ . Even _being_ a person was too exhausting. Every breath feels harder to pull in than the last. He feels like nothing he says or does is right. Peter reaches into the fridge, pulling out a bottle. He just needs to forget right now. Maybe he’ll be less tired when it wears off. Every sip burns its way down his throat, every drop easing him off his pain. Every drop forcing a bad memory out of his head, even for just a little while.

While Peter is off nursing his problems away, actively avoiding dealing with them, Gamora is sitting along in the back of the ship. Her body is sagging forward under the pressure of everything that's happened. For once she just doesn't have the strength to get back up again and tell the universe “no”. There was no strength left in her for that. Now, there was almost no strength left for anything at all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the silvery, shiny coat of something mixed in amongst the blankets and tossed clothes of the team. Setting herself to task, she gets up and strides over to uncover the item. “I bet it was Groot. I'm always telling him he's got to remember to put his things away…” Yet her hand retracts the Zune that Peter was listening to earlier. She cradles it between her fingers and examines it. How amazing it was that this little flat rectangle was filled with music. The kind of music that Peter would love and appreciate so dearly.

Her fingers find themselves working over the keys and it takes her a few minutes to locate the proper buttons and functions. When her finger presses down on the screen, a soft melody fills the headphones, playing so quietly and gently that she picks them up. Pressing the headphones to the side of her ear, she listens to the spot where Peter left off on the song _Father and Son_ by Cat Stevens.

It was obvious in the lyrics that it was meant to be an interaction between a father and his son. The father giving advice and the son feeling dismissed and frustrated. Listening to the lyrics, it was clear that Peter related to it, especially after Yondu’s demise. His death had made his patronisations reveal themselves as advice.

Peter leans against the table, bottle raised slightly, as he stares out the window. The fireworks had obviously been long gone, but he could still see it in his mind’s eye. The beautiful exploding colours. Though the ceremony was silenced by the vacuum of space, it didn’t make it any less grand. Yondu deserved nothing less.

He feels a tear roll down his cheek at the thought. He wipes it away, a little annoyed. “Damn it, man. Stop it.” He takes another gulp of the alcohol. He’s probably not going to finish the whole thing. He just wants enough to be so numb that he doesn’t feel himself going to sleep. He doesn’t even want to feel human for a few hours. That will do. Despite the drink, the tears keep coming, and Peter raises his other arm, pressing the sleeve to his eyes in a useless attempt to stop. He finally decides to just sit down. Placing the bottle on the table to free both his hands, he starts to cry. Nothing is enough. His guilt and pain force self-deprecation and sadness down his throat that not even the burn of alcohol can dispel.

“Stop it, dude,” he mutters, pressing both hands to his face. He can feel his entire body trembling as the sobs win out, but he’s desperate not to let it all out. He has to be strong for everyone or nobody will ever move on. He wished Ego hadn’t crushed his Walkman. Luckily enough, he had clones of the tapes his mother made, but the Walkman had been one of the things he turned to when he felt less than okay.

“Yondu… Mom…” Peter gasps as he cries. He draws in a deep breath, trying to calm down. _Enough is enough, Quill. You’ve mourned long enough. Come on, Star-Lord._ Peter lifts up his shirt to press it to his face, soaking up the tears that stain his cheeks. When he’s sure his breakdown was no longer obvious, he took up the bottle again. He didn’t drink from it, though; it proved ineffective. He was still feeling. He was trying to _not_ feel. He just held it in his hand and stared absently into the dark space.

A warm pair of arms would find themselves wrapping around Peter's waist in a gesture of comfort. Through his tears and panic, he wouldn't have even noticed anyone enter the room. In fact, he probably hadn't even taken notice to the soft music that was now filtering around him and filling the room with an aching calmness. Peter doesn’t notice someone remove the bottle from between his fingers. Something else warm moves to rest against his back and when he looks down, he'll be able to see the familiar pair of green hands. He wasn't as quiet as he would've liked to think, but that didn't really matter to her.

The soft lyrics of the music blur between Peter's sniffles and sobs as Gamora anchors him tightly to her chest. Such a sudden display of affection came as a surprise for Peter. Gamora wasn't really known to be anything but reserved for the most part, although a few times, she would let herself wander a bit. Her hands wrap around him ever tighter as her cheek presses into the soft cotton of the back of his shirt. A gentle humming sounds in the back of her throat.

“I'm sorry for being so harsh on you earlier. That was my mistake,” Gamora murmurs as her hands thread around his waist and begin to slide up and down his sides in rhythmic circles of comfort. “I wasn't thinking. Don't worry about me right now, okay? I'm okay. It’s okay, Peter. Everything will be okay.” She didn't know where such words were coming from or if they even had any meaning for him. All she could do was hope that her presence and familiarity offered him some peace.

“I'm here with you, okay? I'm here,” Her voice is so quiet and gentle, smooth and silky. Her hands slide away now to catch onto his and feel the cold, empty spaces between his own. That was something that always fascinated her: the idea of two worlds being bridged together by something as simple as closing the gaps between one another’s fingers. Slowly but steadily, his body began to quake and quiver with another racking group of sobs. The only difference was that this time, he wouldn't have to go through it on his own. She was there and she would always be there for him.

“I’m sorry,” Peter chokes out. He doesn’t even know why he’s apologising. It just came out instinctively. Maybe deep down, he felt like he’d been the cause for everything and owed every involved person an apology.

Why did Gamora always being there for him feel so significant? None of it made any sense still, but it seemed that she instinctively knew what to do. “You don't always have to be the tough captain, you know? You don't have to play it off like you're okay or downplay your pain for me. It’s not about comparisons or who has it worse. It’s okay to fall apart and to not know, Peter. Nobody else will tell you that, but I will. Look at me, okay? Look at me,” She turns around to pull him towards her, her hands now moving up to touch his cheeks.

Peter doesn’t fight against the movement, allowing Gamora to direct his face to her own. He stares into her eyes as she returns the attention. Her hands feel so gentle on his cheeks, wet with tears.

“You will be okay. You’re the strongest person I know in the galaxy. You might make some absolutely absurd decisions sometimes and only ever have twelve percent of a plan, but somehow it always works out. You always make everything work out because you're _Peter Quill_. You don't always have to be Star-Lord for us. It's okay to just be you too; the you before us, the one that has always been a part of you. I'm here to help. We can get through this, right? Together forever and never apart,” She mumbles while brushing her cheek against his in an attempt at a affectionate nuzzle.

“With you,” He mumbles, putting a hand over one of Gamora’s that are on his cheeks. “I could probably do anything.” It felt true. It had been with Gamora’s help — and the other Guardians — that he could hold the Power Stone. Every inch of his body was ripping itself apart from inside out, and the pain had been alleviated, even just a little bit, when Gamora’s hand took his.

“You _can_ do anything but not because of me. That's your own power, Quill. I just help you to recognize it.” She smiles at him a little in that sweet, endearing way that Peter has grown so used to. Gamora isn’t really sure what to think when his hand rests along hers but becomes aware of the bodily shock it causes. In that moment, there is something about his eyes that nearly renders her breathless. They reflected the whole _universe_.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time either, Gamora. We know you’re strong,” Peter says quietly. His tears had begun to subside, Gamora’s gentle hold and slight rocking calming him down and bringing him back to the ground. No matter how far Peter’s heart and soul drifts, Gamora could always pull him back. Like the tide to the shore; Always back to Gamora. “And you can talk to me about her whenever you want. I’m not gonna force you to talk. If you don’t want to, then that’s fine. Whatever works best for you.”

She isn't sure how to respond to that at first. “Thank you, Quill, for thinking of me, for wanting to protect me and defending me against myself. I know I'm strong, too… but I'm not ready to talk about her just yet. In due time, I'll get around to it, but now is not the opportunity.” She smiles just a little over at him.

“If you want to have a funeral for her, I’m all for it,” Peter says, deciding to put the offer out there. If Gamora said no, it was her decision. If he couldn’t comfort her, then he could at least provide some semblance of closure. He wraps his arms around her in a soft hug. “We would all be fine with it. It’s your call.”

Gamora opens her mouth to say something but closes it after a moment. “Maybe we can do it next week—” Before the statement could be finished, Drax becomes apparently visible in the same space, observing the two of them.

“Did they kiss yet?” Rocket calls snidely down to the back of the ship, fully knowing it would make Peter blush and restore somewhat the same dynamic the team always had.

“No. They have not kissed yet. They have not even noticed I'm in the same room as them yet, for I have mastered the art of becoming invisible. I am moving so slow that nobody has noticed my presence,” Drax announces proudly even though Peter and Gamora are able to see him staring at them.

“Dude, you’re not invisible,” Peter calls out, annoyed. His hand slips off of Gamora’s, attention now directed toward Drax who stands alone, eating a snack while he stares at them.

“Seriously?” Gamora exclaims, folding her arms over her chest crossly. “We can very clearly see you standing right there. You're right by side panel of the ship. How many times do we have to go over this? You're not invisible!”

“I am sure I am,” Drax retorts, standing perfectly still.

Peter shakes his head, frowning, “Mm… Nope. We can still see you, buddy.”

Gamora snorts and rolls her eyes. “Sure, why not? You’re invisible. So if you're invisible…” Her gaze darts around the room to locate a small wrench Drax had left out earlier. It was exhausting cleaning up after him. Stepping away from Peter, she smiles slyly and leans back to grip the tiny wrench. “... then you shouldn't be able to feel this!”

The wrench makes quick work of flying across the room and bouncing off the center of Drax's head. He pauses in eating his snack and narrows his eyes. “Why would you throw a wrench at me? I am invisible… and that hurt my face.” Resuming eating, he shrugs his shoulders and begins wandering out of the way. Peter laughs at Drax’s almost nonchalant reaction to getting hit by a wrench. Drax was just weird sometimes but other times, it was just so hilarious to see his antics.

As soon as Drax was out of sight, Gamora started chuckling. It wasn't her fault that it had been so amusing to see Drax’s confusion. “I'm sorry for throwing that wrench at him. We just go through this every week. He's always trying to be invisible but never realizes we can see him. I'd expect that from Groot maybe since he's only a baby but you'd think Drax would stop this by now.” Another giggle slips from her lips and the sound is so tender and gentle, so rare for Peter to hear from her.

“Yeah. It’s like seeing a baby in the body of a really muscular guy,” Peter chuckles, shaking his head at Drax’s ridiculousness.

“Hey Peter, do me a favor? I know that comparison makes a lot of sense, especially when it comes to Drax but… listen to me. Don't ever say that again. That sounds horrifying,” Gamora giggles again, rolling her eyes and elbowing Peter slightly.

Peter laughs softly as well, nodding, “Yeah. Looking back on that now, that came out a little disgusting.”

“So, um, back to what we were talking about before…” She could already feel her bones aching with the weight of her answer. This was never going to get any easier with time. It would be better to not postpone or avoid it for much longer.

“Maybe we can hold the funeral next week. I want to take this week for myself to privately mourn for my sister. She deserves a funeral.” Lowering her head, Gamora finds herself leaning ever so slightly up against Peter and staring down at the little Zune again next to them. “I remember when we had our first dance and you showed me music from Earth.”

“Yeah, me too,” Peter says, picking up the Zune. “ _Fooled Around and Fell In Love_ by Elvin Bishop. Great song, one of my mom’s favourites.” The song brought back sweet memories to Peter — listening to it with his dearest mother, dancing to it with Gamora under the stars.

“Your mom had a lot of favorite songs. I don't even know how someone can have that many favorite things. It's almost like every song you have ever shown me was one of your mother's favorites. Isn't a favorite thing supposed to be… an _ultimate_ thing?” Gamora frowns in confusion, trying to make sense of the words.

“It could be… But why limit yourself?” Peter asks, smiling. “There’s probably billions of songs out there. Either way… you _do_ think that Elvin song is great, right?”

His question shocks her out of her thoughts. “Um, yeah. It's… it's okay I guess. It's our song.”

“What’s _your_ favourite song?” Peter asks, purely out of curiosity. Since most of the music Gamora was familiar with had been the same ones Peter knew and played frequently, he wanted to know which one Gamora likes the most. He himself would never be able to choose, but Peter always felt like someone’s favourite song told a lot about a person, or perhaps their fondest memories. “If you have one.”

“My favorite song?” She felt anxious by the question. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip and pondered over it. “My favorite song is… is… do I have to have a favorite? I guess if I had to pick a song I really liked, it would have to be that Elvin Bishop song. It is the first song you ever showed me. I didn't really know what music on Earth sounded like.”

“Then you’re lucky you met me, I know all the best ones out there,” Peter jokes. “But your favourite is that one… Has it got to do with our unspoken thing?” It touched Peter a little that the first song he showed her was the one she liked most. It also surprises him a little to realise that she’d referred to the song as “our song”. He knew there was some “unspoken thing”, but he wasn’t sure if Gamora even wanted there to be an “us” to begin with.

“Oh, yeah. I'm sure I'm the luckiest girl in the galaxy.” Her reply is a little dry but Peter knows she has an awkward sense of humor sometimes. “Sometimes I wonder how many other girls you showed those songs too. You know, since you used to hang around with so many.” She winks at him but tenses up at the mention of the _thing_ . The _unspoken_ thing.

“Nah, you’re the only lady I’ve shared music with.” Peter says, smiling fondly.

“Our unspoken thing. You mean the thing that isn't really a thing?” She could sometimes talk Peter around in circles and confuse him. When she did that it always bought her a little extra time.

“You know what I mean,” Peter says. He figured that now was as good a time as any to talk about it. “This unspoken thing between us. It’s been there since back when we danced to Elvin Bishop, it was there when we danced to Sam Cooke and it’s right here while we’re talking about music.”

“Do I know what you mean?” She asks, raising one eyebrow curiously and tilting her head. “We danced to Elvin Bishop because you were just showing me I could. Sam Cooke… I don't know why we danced like that. Maybe I just wanted to make you feel happy. I wanted things to feel comforting and familiar for you…” Gamora isn’t even aware that her body is now angled towards him, even having moved closer to him during the conversation.

“I yelled at you about _Cheers_ after we danced to that one.” He rolls his eyes a little, laughing at the absurdity of their argument now that he’s looking back at it, “I don’t know why I was so pent up about _Cheers_. Sorry about that.” He flicks through the Zune’s music collection, relocating the Sam Cooke song they’d danced to, and hits play. Peter mumbles, “Anyway. Sam Cooke.”

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head and pushes his shoulders playfully. A familiar, mischievous glint enters her eyes as she leaps at Peter again. “No! No way! How many times have I told you? You've got me listening to that Sam Cooke song so much, I hear it even in my sleep! Can't you play anything else for a change?”

“ _Fine_. I’ll play something else, party pooper,” Peter relents, going through the music library again before settling on a song. As the soft tunes fill the room, Peter names the band, “This one’s by The Beatles. Great band.”

“You say that about _every_ musician on that Zune.” Gamora points out. She falls quiet to listen to the tunes of the new song — _Here Comes The Sun_ . It was a bit different… but then something else struck her in the process. “Did you just call them The Beatles? How can… how can bugs _sing_? Aren't beatles… you know, insects? Do they have communicators to sing like Terrans?”

“They’re not _bugs_ !” Peter scoffs, feigning offence. “They’re — They’re four human guys. Legendary! _Bugs_ , really?” Peter laughs out of just how hilarious this conversation is. The absurdity of Peter listening to insects was just too funny.

“Four human guys? How did they ever land on the name of a bug? Yes, _bugs_!” She flings her hands up and shakes her head. “That settles it. Terrans are absolutely odd and I cannot figure any of them out. So it's a band of legendary bugs? What would you even call that?” She didn't mind keeping up with the conversation; it was amusing for her.

“How would they even make the music? Insects can’t talk,” Peter asks, folding his arms as he grins at Gamora, awaiting her explanation. He liked having playful arguments with her. They always ended up in a better mood and he knew both of them needed to let off some steam.

“I just told you that before! Maybe they have um, constructed their own communicator. So they can sing and talk like Terrans.” She points out proudly, her chin lifted up in pride at her explanation. Still yet, her body finds itself moving closer and closer to Peter until he's pressed against the far wall of the ship.

“Beatles, Gamora. B-E-A-T-L-E-S. They’re not _actual_ beetles,” Peter shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. He jokes, “Shame on you.”

“Actually I don't see why it's _my_ fault. I'm not the one who names a whole group of people beatles!” She exclaims, pressing against Peter's shoulders again. Her breath would now be warm on his face. Peter stares back into her eyes, feeling their whole world melt into this very moment between them. Their lips are just inches away, and if he leaned forward just slightly...

“No unspoken thing, huh?” He asks, his tone a mix of softness and intrigue. One hand slowly makes its way up to cup her face, his smile mirroring the gentleness of it. “Seems to me like there _is_.”

His fingers connected with her cheek and everything seemed to fade away. All that existed was this moment in time, frozen and apart from all others. Her gaze flickers down to rest against his lips. It was fun to imagine sometimes, what it would be like if she was with Peter romantically. Too bad she isn't good at romance even though she's never given it a try.

“No unspoken thing.” Gamora says the words pretty firmly even as she finds herself nestling into his palm. She runs her cheek over the rough skin of his fingers before sighing. “Even if there was, it wouldn’t be an unspoken thing anymore if I told you.”

“Ah-ha! So you admit there _is_ one because you already thought of that paradox,” Peter triumphantly points out. “Okay, so what about this _thing_ between us, then? Spoken or unspoken.”

“I'm not admitting to _anything_. I was just saying even if there was one, and I told you, then it wouldn't be an unspoken thing anymore.” The way she worded it now seemed even worse; only giving the impression that there indeed was an unspoken thing. “So… what about this thing between us? Spoken or not, I… I don't know what you're asking me really. I'm not sure how to respond.”

“What would you wanna do about that?” he asks, grinning. Perhaps it comes off as challenging, like he’s wants to know what she would do about their “thing”, as they’d come to collectively dub it.

Now they were getting somewhere, or at least so Gamora thought. That was more direct and to the point. “What would I want to do about it? Honestly Peter I… I don't really know. If you know we have this… _thing_ together, what would _you_ want to do about it?” It was as much a question of sincerity as it was a reflection from her having to answer.

“I would do anything you want to. It’s all your choice. I’m fine with anything you decide,” Peter answers honestly. He just wanted Gamora to be happy. Even if it means never acting on this “thing” between them — if Gamora was happy with that, then Peter would roll with it.

Staring out into the stars, Gamora ponders over the dusty, bright spots of light spread out through the cosmos. Turning to look at Peter, she bites her lip and looks back out to the stars once more. “Can I ask you something? No jokes or anything this time. Have you ever been in love before? I just want to know what that felt like for you if you ever experienced it before our thing.”

“Uh… I guess I was in love. I could be wrong, I was a kid, then. But it felt like it. Love’s a pretty strong emotion, my mom said,” Peter says. He looks out into the stars thoughtfully as well, as if reminiscing. “There… there was this person. Many years ago, back when I was with the Ravagers.”

“I feel that way about love too. It is a strong emotion… so I would know your mother was right about that.” She moves to stand next to him and props herself against the barrier behind them. “A person? Like another human like you? Or someone who was more like a human but a ravager? If that makes any sense…”

Peter contemplated revealing a more private side of himself to Gamora. He hadn’t told any of the Guardians about it, but surely, he can trust Gamora with this. He already trusts her with his life, he had no reason to think Gamora would mind.

“The person’s a _he_ ,” Peter mumbles, not being able to quell the anxiousness as he waits for Gamora’s reaction.

At this revelation, Gamora just nods, clearly acknowledging it and even smiling encouragingly. “Well, I'm sure he was a very wonderful person.” Gamora’s reaction warms Peter’s heart with acceptance.

“He was new to our Ravager base. He was really good-looking, nothing like the other Ravagers. He used to steal anything that reminded him of me to give me as a present. He was just good, which was pretty weird for a _Ravager_ because we did a lot of bad shit but… He’s good.” He hesitates for a moment before saying, albeit slightly regretfully, “Don’t know where he is now or if he’s even alive, so there isn’t really a point.”

“Did you really like him? What did he look like?” She found all of the answers Peter was giving to be interesting.

“He was Krylorian, so he had pink skin and these… really beautiful purple eyes,” Peter answers. He recalls fond memories with the long-gone Krylorian and says quietly, “I guess I _was_ in love with him. I mean, I even shared some of my more personal favourite music with him. It was like the world disappeared around him.”

“He definitely doesn’t sound like your typical Ravager. Do you miss him sometimes? Ever wonder if he's still out there somewhere missing you?” She looks out to the stars once more while leaning against Peter a bit.

At the questions, Peter decides to change the subject, “It doesn’t matter. What about you? You ever been in love?” He was curious to know about Gamora’s romantic past.

She smiles a little nervously before clearing her throat. “Once,” Gamora murmurs, her lips twitching back up into a smile. “Just the one time. It's not easy for me to fall in love with anyone, mostly because I never have the time to.”

“What were they like? How’d you meet them?” Peter asks. He was interested in finally learning more about her history other than her experiences with Thanos and Nebula. When Gamora opens up a new side of her, Peter listens intently.

“She was… um, well, she was really important to me for a while. A part of me thinks she still is. I don’t even know if she's alive anymore. Back when Thanos was working to strike up a deal with the Kree, I had spare time on my hands to meet some of them… and I found an _interesting_ person. She didn't… she didn't look the same as other Kree, sort of like how your Ravager didn't look like a Ravager. Like me, she was a warrior.”

“A warrior, huh? Was she strong? And pretty?” Peter questions, smiling faintly. He could tell whoever this warrior was, Gamora truly loved her. Though there’s a tug at his heart from jealousy, he wanted to know more about the woman who meant the world to Gamora once.

“A warrior, yes. She was one of the strongest I've ever known. I… I don't see how her being pretty is relevant at all to this conversation,” Gamora laughs as she nudges Peter with her elbow. “For your information, she was pretty. At least, _I_ thought she was. A lot of others didn't really know her the same way I did. The Kree have their own special code of conduct and rules they need to follow, you know.”

“Do you think she still thinks about you?” Peter asks.

“If she’s not dead, she probably is thinking about me. She was my best friend for a time. Then one day she just… she kind of disappeared. I don't really know where she went, but I ended up leaving shortly after in pursuit of the orb… the one that led me to you.” She smiles a bit wider over at Peter but her heart twinges with pain at the thought of her friend… her “ _more than a friend”_ friend.

Peter decides to ask another question, partially from jealousy and partially from genuine curiosity, “What would you do if you saw her again?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Gamora says with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “I'd like to start with even knowing if she is still alive. Maybe I would give her a hug. I still have some of her things actually, if you want to take a look at them. That was a good idea of yours for me to keep a memory box.”

“Wow, you took my advice? I’m honoured,” Peter jokes. “Sure, I’ll look. Why not? I wanna see what she was like.” He shrugs, pushing himself off the wall to follow Gamora. He’d known that there were a few Kree members who looked human, he’d seen them a few times in passing. He wondered if that’s what Gamora meant by a Kree who didn’t look like one.

“I don't know if you'll understand much about her from the things I have, but I can tell you more about her. Only if you want. I did take your advice… you knew I would. I have a bunch of stuff from our months traveling as a team together too.”

“All I have left from him is a cassette tape from Queen that doesn’t play anymore. Yondu threw most of the stuff he got me away. He didn’t know about the guy and me.” Part of Peter wishes he’d told Yondu about himself before his passing, but deep down, he knew Yondu wouldn’t have minded.

Frowning a little, Gamora shrugs her shoulders dismissively. “Keep the tape. Even if it doesn't work anymore the memory lives on with it. I was going to try and get you another Walkman but I know the one you had was special. A replacement wouldn't replace the memory. I'm sorry that you never got a chance to tell Yondu but if it makes you feel any better, Yondu would've accepted you for you.” Peter nods, but doesn’t say much else.

“Where’d you keep this box?” Peter asks, following Gamora to wherever she’d stored the memory box. He wished he’d thought of memory boxes earlier. Maybe then, he’d have more mementos from the Krylorian. Maybe he should start a memory box now, full of things he’d picked up from his adventures with the Guardians.

“I had to get creative with hiding it. Groot used to get into it sometimes. There's a section inside that's just for her, hidden around all of our stuff.” Sliding her hands underneath the main section of the box, she opens up the bottom to reveal another box underneath and pulls it out. “I didn't want Groot going through this box. I've always wanted to return these things to her. She has some things of mine too.”

“Wow, you’ve got a good collection of stuff going,” Peter casually remarks, picking out one of the items from the box.

“I've just been casually adding to the box as I see fit.” Gamora rummages around in the box and starts pulling out its contents. “She was really special. She gave me a piece of writing but I could never really read it. It's all in Kree. I also have some technology she used in here… like this little communicator she gave me so we could always keep in contact. It stopped working after a while, whether on my end or hers I'm not sure.” She pulls out a few more things; a badge, some pins, and then a little scrap piece of metal.

“Her name. I still have it. It used to be a part of her belongings back when she was living with the Kree. They gave her such a ridiculous name. I don't even know why. I've never liked her name much, so I always just called her V or Vee. It was her nickname but she loved it so much better than _Vers_.” She passes over the damaged metal plating to Peter and raises one eyebrow, watching for his reaction.

“Looks like half of it broke off. If you find that half, you’ll know her actual name,” Peter says, fingers running over the rough edges of the metal piece. “Vers is probably part of her last name, or she has a really long name.”

“If half of it broke off, neither of us knew where it was. All she remembers is waking up with the rest of the metal plate. They told her that was her name,” Gamora says, watching the way Peter's hands run over the lettering. It reminds her of the way she used to caress her cheek; the way they would hold hands. “How do you know that for sure?”

“Well, unless the Kree had these too, It looks like a dog tag, humans used them in the military,” Peter answers. When Gamora doesn’t respond, he takes interest in the communicator. The screen was blank and it looked a little advanced compared to the ones he’d seen, but he could recognise it. He said, “We have these on Earth. They’re called pagers. Maybe yours or hers ran out of charge. Rocket could fix it up, I think. But he’ll ask where you got it from and I doubt you want to answer that.”

“That's from Earth? If it is, then maybe you can figure out how to fix it. Even if you fix mine though hers might be out of battery. Or it could be destroyed and floating out there somewhere in the galaxy. I'm not telling Rocket about her.” Gamora stiffens at the idea of it. “It's none of his business… especially if she's long gone.”

“I could try, but my mom never had a pager so I don’t really know too much about it. But if you give it to me, I can try,” Peter offers. “I’ll keep it from the others too.”

The relief flooding through Gamora’s body was welcoming and refreshing. For once maybe, just maybe, she would be able to get answers about her long lost friend. “You can try. That's better than nothing. Even if you don't succeed, I know you tried. I've got nothing to lose if it doesn't work.” Reaching one hand out to catch onto his her eyes close as their worlds collide together once more. “Thank you for keeping her a secret. We don't have the best track record with the Kree either...I wouldn't want the others finding out about her.”

Peter picks up the badge, mumbling his question, “Do you think she was from Earth? She seems to own a lot of Earth stuff.” Half of Peter is questioning how a military woman from Earth ended up as a Kree named Vers, the other half is a little disappointed that he isn’t the first human to get this close to Gamora. Either way, Vers seemed interesting enough.

“You think she was from _Earth_? I don't really know a lot about those things. If she has a lot of earthly possessions, it's possible… but if she was on Earth at all, she never remembered it.” Gamora replies.

Peter frowns in thought of Vers’ Earth-found belongings. It was really intriguing, how she had all these items like a pager and a military dog tag. “What stuff of yours does she have?” he asks.

“I gave her these trinkets I had from when I was a child… and I gave her a few of my swords and daggers. She has one of my vests too… and somewhere, a bracelet I made for her. She was always losing it.”

Peter smiles a little, looking through the small pins. “I’m sure she still wears your vest.”

“I'm not sure if she still wears it. I don't know if she even liked to wear it but she always kept it close. Something about it smelling like me so it kept her comforted.”

He adds thoughtfully, “I gave the Krylorian guy a mixtape, a Ravager jacket of mine that was old but he liked and there was a photo of both of us that I don’t have, so I assume he has it.” He looks over Vers’ items wistfully. “Kind of wish _I_ got the photo, but it is what it is.” She tilts her head over at Peter and nods. She wouldn't have expected anything less from him. He was always giving back to others.

“Is he still alive? I mean… it seems like you two had such a complex history together.” Gamora asks.

Peter hesitates for a second before saying, “I don’t know. There was this Ravager mission and Yondu didn’t let me go, but he was sent out for it. He left with my jacket and the photo of us in his pocket. I never saw him again after that.” He adds after a moment, “You know… His name was Milano. I named my ship after him.”

“I thought you named your ship after a Terran celebrity,” Gamora raises an eyebrow.

Peter shrugs, grinning lightly, though there was a tinge of faraway sadness in his smile, “I was a Ravager, I lied. Is it that surprising I lied about my ship’s name?”

“Do you ever wonder if sometimes you still love him? Or care for him like that?” What a strange thing to consider, but Gamora knew that Vers had to be part of the reason she was holding back with Peter. Some people find it easier to move on, but not her. It didn’t feel right to reach out to Peter or be with him romantically when she was unsure of where Vers was. “It's okay if you do. I just wanted to know.”

“Since we’re both being honest… maybe I still do. I don’t know. He was just… very special, and I lost him too quick. It was like reliving what happened with my mother again. After he disappeared, I didn’t really get attached to anyone else until I met all of you.” Peter replies.

“That seems to be a pretty common theme in your life. You're always losing people you love. I wish I understood why. Why does the universe choose you to go through all of that?” She shrugs her shoulders. The world worked in mysterious ways that often didn't have any proper explanations. It just didn't seem fair that Peter had to suffer and endure constantly.

“You’ve gone through a lot too. Maybe the universe just hates us,” He jokes, though the statement has a hint of belief in it. “And it’s okay if you still love Vers. I… I get it. If I could see the guy again, I would really like that.”

“After Vers, my life just went back to normal. Standard procedure all over again until it came time to search for the orb. That's when I found all of you. So I get it, even though the circumstances of our situations aren't the same.” For a while Gamora doesn't know how to respond to Peter's next words. They stand in an awkward silence that stretches between them.

“It's been _so_ long Peter. _So_ long. I'm not even sure if she's still alive. Even if she is there's no guarantee that she remembers me or wants to know who I am. Everything happens for a reason… We've been apart for over six years. I don't care what anyone else says, but with so much time apart, it changes you. I don't know if she’s going to be who I remember or if _I'll_ be who she remembers. All I know is that it would be nice if I could find her out there somewhere in the galaxy, even if it's just to know she's safe.” That was the truth; her heart would likely be more at ease if only she knew about her friend.

“She really meant a lot to you. I’ll try to fix this up, hopefully we can contact her again. No promises, though,” Peter says, raising the pager in referral to it. Gamora nods gratefully, appreciating that Peter was willing to attempt repairing Vers’ pager.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter looked over Gamora’s pager, trying to find the problem with it. He’d taken it apart and was trying his best to repair it. His mother never had a pager and if she did, he’d never seen it, and he’d never come across alien tech that was similar to it. He decided to just improve the pager itself instead of fixing a problem he cannot find.

He wished he’d given Milano a pager like Vers did, but it was too late. He’d rather focus his energy on fixing up the pager so Gamora could contact Vers. He’d stolen some of Rocket’s tools to work on it because he really wanted it to work for Gamora.

While he modified the pager with alien technology, he thought about Vers and Gamora’s history. He was curious to know what her real name was, whether she really was from Earth, how she ended up as part of the Kree. Even though half of him was jealous, the other half wanted to meet the other Terran who won Gamora’s heart. Maybe if he repaired it, Gamora would invite him to come look for her too. 

With his new task of helping Gamora relocate Vers, Peter wondered if he should try finding Milano as well or if he should just accept that it’s gone and keep looking for something new. As Gamora had mentioned, everything happens for a reason. Perhaps he was meant to lose Milano like he’d lost everyone else he’d ever loved. Perhaps it was all working up to something bigger, maybe he’ll meet someone who won’t leave...

Or maybe... it was all leading up to his meeting Gamora. He can’t help but feel that there could be something truly special between them. If only they universe didn’t consistently throw tragedy after tragedy at them, they — or, at least, Gamora — would have been more open to a stable relationship. Peter was definitely open to it. 

It seemed almost contradictory that he was. Some higher being must despise him because every time he gets close to people, they’re hurt or taken away. And yet, he keeps getting attached. Now that he has a family in the Guardians, he can’t stand the idea of losing them. Especially with someone as special as Gamora on the team.

He finished up what he hoped were improvements and reassembled the pager, closing his eyes as if in silent prayer that it worked. When he turns the little device on, the screen starts blinking. The top half was blue and the bottom was red, two thin yellow bent lines crossing it off in the middle with a star in the centre. He didn’t recognise the symbol. Though they’d had run-ins with the Kree — Ronan the damn Accuser — he’d never really bothered to know more about them, especially as a Ravager. He just didn’t think of them as people he wanted to get to know. He stayed away from the Kree for the most part; Yondu’s advice.

“I wonder what Vers is like now,” Peter mutters to himself as he stares at the blinking symbol.

Gamora finds herself sitting in the hull of the ship. Her fingers casually knit around one another deep in thought. Mostly, she’s wondering about Peter's previous love interest and best friend. The name of the Guardians’ ship back then upon first meeting suddenly made sense. There was something endearing and sweet about Peter naming the ship after him. It's strange to think that Peter was up there, somewhere on their current ship, attempting to fix her communicator. In a way, Gamora feels almost selfish for asking him to do so.

It  _ was _ pretty selfish to just assume that Peter would be open to fixing it. Even though he promised to try, it didn't make her feel any better. What could she do for him? It was much harder to try and replace lost or forgotten things for someone she knew nothing about. Peter had given Milano a Ravager's jacket but just giving Peter one of those wouldn't hold any meaning. Over the course of his years spent with the Ravagers, he probably had plenty of jackets with their emblem on it. It wouldn’t have any impact.

There was also the mixtape that Peter fashioned for the Krylorian. Now that was something that maybe she could work with. Of course, there was no direct access to any technological devices to create a mixtape. Making a cassette from scratch was going to be a difficult process. Maybe she could find a way to make something similar… minus Rocket's tools since Peter currently had them. 

Remembering and missing Vers was  _ never  _ part of the plan when Gamora joined the Guardians. To be fairly honest, Vers hadn't crossed her mind very often in more recent years. For some reason or another it was hard to imagine just pushing her out of her mind. The very thought of attempting to force Vers away caused a twinge of near insufferable pain.  _ It's been six years since I've last seen her, maybe more. How can I still care so much for someone who probably doesn't remember me? _

That was the real fear and perhaps the truth. Everyone that came into Gamora's life at some point or another eventually just forgot about her. It wasn't always intentional but it still  _ hurts _ . To thought of Vers abandoning her fills her with an opening emptiness. That's why she never wanted to let Peter get too close to her… and maybe that's why she would never act on her feelings.  _ How am I supposed to do any of this? _

She can't move on. Her mind won't budge from a cloud of memories long gone. Pressing her hands to her temples, the noises and colors only seem to become louder. The gnawing sensation at her heart was enough to be unsettling.  _ I miss her _ .

“Hey, Gamora. I got it fixed up, I think,” Peter says, entering the hull. Gamora had been so stuck in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Peter’s arrival. 

“Let me see,” Gamora says, running a hand over her face before walking towards Peter. “I’m kind of surprised that you got it to work. The battery on this thing must have been worn down by now or at the very least fried.”

Peter says proudly, “I’m not Star-Lord for nothing.” On a more serious note, Peter adds, “The battery wasn’t salvageable so I remade its power source with one of Rocket’s spare batteries. It’ll last longer than it did.” He passed the pager over to Gamora, the screen blinking red, blue and yellow, and asked, “What’s this mean?”

The colors blinking across the screen were a new addition to the pager's functions. Reaching one finger up to trace across the blinking gold line, Gamora tilts her head and frowns slightly. “I’m not sure what that means to be totally honest with you. She gave me the communicator for us to keep in contact but we never ended up using it.” 

“If it’s blinking, it’d mean her’s is still working. She’s been keeping it charged,” Peter says, smiling a little in encouragement as Gamora looked over the pager.

“So she  _ has _ been charging hers too. I wonder if she's tried reaching me but couldn't because the battery went down.” Gamora scratched the back of her neck and offered Peter the smallest of smiles. Maybe the search for Vers wouldn't be so bad after all. 

“You could send a signal out. If she’s kept the pager charged for so long, I’m sure she’ll answer if you call,” he says. It was the truth — nobody would take the time and effort to charge a device if they had no intention of answering it. 

“I don't know about that, Peter.” This was confusing and overwhelming information to take in all at once. “I could send a signal out but the communicator was supposed to be for emergencies only. This isn't exactly an emergency. Even if she is keeping her system charged, why hasn't she ever… I don’t know, she just never tried reaching out to me. Maybe she doesn't want to hear from me.”

“Well, maybe since yours ran out of power, hers stopped working too. She can’t call someone who’s unreachable,” Peter guesses. 

“How does that work? You just said if my pager is blinking hers has to be on too. If it is, she isn't actively trying to contact me. Unless hers ran out of power and she just isn't even aware of it yet.” 

“I mean she can’t call you if yours ran out of power, so hers would be ‘not working’ in a sense,” Peter explains. “Do you want to try sending a signal anyway? We could drop off at the nearest habitable planet and then you can signal her. The other Guardians won’t see her that way,” Peter suggests. He was definitely curious about Vers now that she was within their grasp.

“I suppose there is no harm in giving it a try. The worst that could happen is Groot wandering off of the ship and Rocket following in pursuit. If she doesn't respond then we can assume she wants zero contact with me. I don't know if she'll even show up.” The suggestion was too tempting to pass up. At the slightest idea of Vers being alive in the galaxy somewhere Gamora's heart skipped just a beat too fast. “As long as the other Guardians are preoccupied. Vers was never a fan of very large crowds.”

Peter nods, saying, “Well, Groot’s been getting a little restless. Maybe Rocket, Drax and Mantis can bring him to get a video game or something. We could sneak away and call Vers while they do that and say we’re just helping to look for something too. Entirely your choice, though. She’s  _ your _ long-lost warrior. Either way, we need to stop by a planet to refuel.”

“Really?” Gamora raises an eyebrow in interest. “I don't ever seem to notice these things. Maybe that's because Groot knows I mean business. Whenever I'm around, he's always in better behavior. He knows not to pull any tricks.” That was true; of all the Guardians, with the exception of Rocket, Groot listens to Gamora the most. 

“Also, are you sure we should send them to get him another video game? You remember what happened with the first one, don't you?” That was completely another story. For Groot's birthday, Gamora had made the innocent mistake of handing over a refurbished gaming system from Earth. She didn't know what it was exactly but she did know it came with the copy of a game called  _ Space Invaders _ . Long story short: Groot loved the game until he couldn't bypass one of the levels. In a temper tantrum, not only did he accidentally break the game, he also blasted a hole through the side of their ship. They almost ended up floating out in space.

“I'd rather we not have a repeat performance of our ship's destruction. All of us were nearly blasted into hyperspace without our space suits. Maybe we could have them take him somewhere else. I'll have to make a note to tell Mantis to steer him clear of the video games. I know out of the four of them, she's the most likely to listen. If we need to stop at a planet for fuel anyway, I might as well just do it. Like I said, the worst that could possibly come from this is that she doesn't answer me or she's lost her communicator somewhere.” 

“Ugh, yeah. The whole  _ Space Invaders _ thing… We’ll get them to look for a music player maybe, since he likes my music. Nearest habitable planet is…” Peter trails off, turning away to check on the systems. “Wow, coincidentally where we first met. Xandar. So, you up for it?”

“ _ Xandar _ .” It had been a long time since the Guardians last visit, and in a way they became heroes to the Xandarian people. After rescuing the planet from Ronan's wrath they had gained the respect of many. “It has been a while since we've visited them, perhaps since we retrieved the orb. I guess there's no harm in trying because you're right about one thing… she is  _ my _ long-lost warrior.”

“Xandar it is, then,” Peter says, leaving to take the pilot’s seat to set a course for Xandar. 

“Where are we going?” Rocket asks, watching Peter key in coordinates into their navigation system. 

Peter answers, “Xandar. Nearest planet, we need fuel. Plus, I’m sick of watching Drax eat from the same bag of Zargnuts since five weeks ago. We need new food, new fuel and some fresh air.”

Gamora scrunches up her face just a bit. “Oh please. You mean to be telling me he's been eating the same bag this entire time? We're going to have to get rid of that bag of Zargnuts. There's no way we're keeping those on the ship. Before we leave we can pick up some more food...and maybe I can clean out the ship. I think this place is overdue for a cleaning session.”

* * *

When they land on Xandar, it’s like a trip come full circle. The first time they’d been on Xandar, with the exceptions of Drax and Mantis, they’d all been enemies. The second time they’re on Xandar and they’re glad to call each other family. Peter tells Rocket, “I’m gonna find someone to refuel the ship. Can you guys go find Groot something to play with?”

Rocket folds his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at Peter. “That sounds like a plan, though I'm not sure what particular motor mission you're planning for us. You only ever send us away when you're looking to organize the details of another one. I get it. It's a covert mission operative.”

Peter stares at him in bewilderment, “Covert mission? No, dude. What made you think that?”

Before Rocket could say any more, Mantis comes over towards Peter, half-skipping, half-running to reach his side. “I'd be glad to assist Groot. He's really taken a liking to all the plants I've been growing on the ship. Maybe he can help me pick out another plant to mark our visit to Xandar. I've never been here before.”

“Oh yeah, it’s your first time here!” Peter realises. “Grab whatever you want. I’m sure Rocket’s willing to steal anything that’s too expensive. But help Groot get something please, I’m not sure if I can take the little guy jumping off the walls any longer.”

“Don't worry, I'll help pick out something for him too. I don't really think Drax is a good candidate for this… I know what Groot likes. Maybe I can get him a coloring book or a puzzle!”

“Sounds good,” Peter smiles warmly. He liked how innocent Mantis was compared to the rest of them. It was strange how someone as pure as her fit in so nicely with people as tainted as them. He hoped she never changed. Her optimism and innocence was one of the things that kept Peter’s hope that the world isn’t so bad going.

“Where are you going, Peter? Are you okay?” Mantis asked, showing concern for Peter and Gamora’s slight shiftiness.

“It’s all good, we’re just gonna go check out the other stores. Maybe we’ll find something. Meet back here in like…” Peter glances over at Gamora for her to give an estimated timing. He himself had no clue how long they would need.

Gamora shrugs her shoulders and just picks a random time frame. “I guess we can all meet back here in about an hour.” That should be long enough to get a transmission across and even see if the communicator was working. 

“So, you gonna call her now?” Peter asks as he and Gamora begin walking in the opposite direction of the other Guardians.

Her hands are resting in the pockets of her jacket, eyes lowered to stare at the dusty ground of the planet. “I guess.” Why was she so anxious to call her? 

The two find a more deserted area, away from the packed plaza, and Gamora takes out the pager. It’s still blinking the same display as before. Peter decides to make himself comfortable — he didn’t know how long it would take for Vers to arrive — and sat down on the ground, leaning against a wall as Gamora held the pager. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m here for you, okay? It’ll be fine.”

“You do realize there is a chance she might not even  _ come _ ? I just want you to know that. This might be all for nothing with the exception of the fact we needed resources.” Her gaze hovers over the flickering colors, but she can't seem to recall if she’s ever seen them before. “I'm not sure what those colors symbolize. Back when I knew Vers her suit colors were the Kree colors, you know, green and black.”

“Maybe she had a wardrobe change,” Peter jokes, trying to lighten Gamora up. He hoped the signal worked, for Gamora’s sake. Since he couldn’t do anything about Nebula, the least he could do was help her ensure the safety of her long-lost friend.

“Yeah, maybe.” Gamora offers Peter a half hearted smile but she knows it isn't reaching her eyes. There was something so nerve racking about knowing whether or not her friend was still alive. Now wasn't the time to ease tension with jokes but she appreciated his effort.

Was it really such a good idea to be seeking out her old friend again? Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. That's probably why they drifted apart in the first place. “I don't know, Peter. This is the first time I'm unsure of anything to this extent. I just don't want to get my hopes up. A lot can change in the span of six years time. I'm not sure if she will even remember me.” Really, it all seemed like it was leading up to a dead end but she didn't want to tell Peter that, not when he was so excited.

“Trust me, if she has that pager with her, she does remember you. Six years or not,” Peter replies simply. “And you won’t know anything ‘till you try, right?”

“What if she just has the pager but she doesn't remember where it came from?” Gamora knew she was getting ridiculous now. Peter was right; if she really wanted to find her whereabouts she would have to try.

Pressing the button down on the pager, she listens to the way the little circuits inside churn and spark. The object comes to life almost immediately with a static quiet filling the air. Holding the button down again, Gamora closes her eyes and clears her mind. What should she say? Six years of no contact… was there even a point in trying to reach out? She wasn't expecting anything out of the conversation — if there even was one.

Peter waits from his place on the ground silently. When nothing happens after five minutes, Peter offers, “She could be really far… Or maybe she’s in the bathroom…” Gamora stares at him in disbelief.

She stares hard at the little piece of metal, turning it over and over in her hands again. “Even if she doesn't respond, the coordinates will be recorded on her device. She'll be able to track me down… I mean, track  _ us _ down. I've got no idea where she could be…” 

“Just wait a little longer,” Peter insists. Gamora raises an eyebrow at his weird ‘obsession’ over Vers. While he was interested in meeting the Kree warrior who wasn’t really Kree, he just wanted to help Gamora. He wanted this to go well for her. It was the least he could do for her after what happened with Nebula.

It seems like it's taking forever, so much so that Gamora starts speaking into the pager. She isn't sure whether Vers will hear her or not but doesn't care. There were things she needed to get out there. “Vers… I don't know if you remember me. I know that somewhere out in the galaxy, perhaps on some planet, your communicator is floating around. I'm not sure if you even still have it… or if it's just aimlessly floating through space. Mine doesn't have coordinate tracking.” This was going to take  _ a while _ . Hopefully the rest of the team would find ways to stay occupied.

“I've missed you… for a really long time. I’m sorry I never reached out to you after you disappeared. I didn't try to use the communicator because, well, back then the length of the range was a few galaxies but it suffered damage. I had to get away from Ronan and break myself out of that kind of life. If you remember me, you'd know I wasn't really happy in it…” The communicator just remains kind of static-like, the sounds only cutting out each time Gamora started speaking again. 

“I just wanted you to know that I'm really sorry I never found you. I've thought about you every single day since you first disappeared. I heard tales that you went on a mission with some other Kree members and when they came back to report, you weren't among them. I guess you could be gone… but still. I  _ miss _ you. I just wish I was able to hear your voice one more time, or to know if you still remember me.” She places the pager down on the ground and wraps her hands around her knees before closing her eyes. 

Gamora leaves the pager down on the ground and walks over to Peter to sit next to him, propping her head against his shoulder. Peter apologises, “Sorry if it doesn’t work.”

“It's okay, Peter. It's alright. You tried. You really did. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe the communicator breaking was a blessing in disguise.” She nestles herself closer into Peter's arms and lets out a defeated sigh.

The two are sitting together in a placating position, only comfortable silence between them, when there is a sound that resonates above the others. It was coming from the pager as the static crackled in and out, eventually falling silent. “I guess you didn’t wire the batteries correctly…”

“No, I know I did,” Peter says, frowning in confusion. “There’s someone on the other end of that.”

“I have  _ no  _ idea who this is, but I'm pretty sure those batteries are wired in correctly. Can you hear me?” Gamora's blood ran cold.  _ Her  _ voice. It was  _ her _ , it was Vers. “Anyways, I'm not sure how you got this pager? I only recall ever giving one to someone who was—” Her voice suddenly cuts out, being muffled for a few minutes before returning again. “I gave this to one of my… one of the people who were important to me. Are you… I mean… who are you? I thought I was finished temporarily with… you're not with the Kree, are you?” 

Gamora glances over at Peter before picking up the pager. “No, I'm just with a few friends. I promise none of us are with the Kree. Not too long ago, they had a bounty out on our heads… they probably still have active bounties on us. Vers—”

“My name  _ isn't  _ Vers. It's Carol. Carol Danvers… but I know who  _ you  _ are now. I remember you. Gamora… how the  _ hell  _ are you still alive?”

“I told you about the name thing,” Peter jokes, grinning. He was excited about the pager functioning and Carol answering Gamora’s call. He answers Carol’s question while Gamora ponders Carol’s real name, “We saved the universe. Twice, actually. Of course we’re all alive.”

“Now  _ that's _ definitely a voice I don't recognize. What's your name?” Carol's voice comes through sounding strong and clear. 

“I’m Star-Lord, legendary outlaw,” Peter replied almost instantly. Gamora elbows him and he amends, pulling a falsely mad expression at her, “Peter Quill. Gamora’s friend.”

“I'm glad Gamora made some friends. I'd heard about the latest explosion — I mean, the most recent disruption caused in the galaxy. Something about a powerful being exploding? I suppose you're the cause of that. I mean, they can't be  _ that _ powerful if you defeated them single handedly.” There is a hint of sarcasm and admiration in her voice.

“That was us,” Peter answers pridefully. He even adds, allowing his ego — pun intended — to come through, “It wasn’t even hard to take the guy down. I mean, he went down  _ easy _ . Not to brag or anything, but —“ At Gamora’s hard stare, he finished, “— nothing. But nothing.”

“Oh really? That's interesting. Celestials are supposed to be one of the strongest beings in the galaxy. To take one down has to be supremely difficult.” Carol can't help but smirk on the other end of the pager. Whoever this Peter Quill was, he definitely seemed like he was a handful. “I'm sure you weren't intending to brag whatsoever. I could brag with you too. I've saved thousands upon thousands of lives all throughout the galaxy. It shouldn't be a competition.” 

“That’s so cool,” Peter says, in awe. Gamora was right when she said Carol was a warrior.

“I thought Gamora died in the years she was serving under her superiors. I hadn't heard from her in so long I just assumed she was lost somewhere in the galaxy without ability to contact me. I would also guess you're the ones who created that energy pulse in the cosmos a couple of months back. Saving the universe is a pretty huge job. How did you manage to pull that off? What kind of superpowers do you have? Surely you must have a superior roster of powers to pull off something so powerful.” 

“I was half-Celestial, so I had all these cool godlike powers. They disappeared when I killed my dad, though,” Peter answers. He says, a thought he hadn’t expressed to any of the other Guardians before, “Since it happened, I’ve been trying to get back my powers, but it just ain’t working.”

Gamora turns now to stare at Peter, almost staring him down in bewilderment. “Peter, you're trying to get your powers back!? How could you  _ not _ tell me? It's not a big deal or anything but I tell you everything!” Her voice comes out in a hushed hiss, eyes wide with surprise. 

Peter holds his arms up in surrender, whispering back in his defence, “I mean, yeah, I am. I didn’t think it was a big deal! It wasn’t working out so I assumed I didn’t have to tell anyone!”

“You  _ were  _ half-Celestial?” The tone edging into Carol's voice was full of amusement. Gamora recognized it rather quickly as a behavior she was once fond of. 

“Yeah… I lost all my abilities after I killed my Celestial dad. I was immortal, could fly, manipulate everything around me and had these super cool energy blasts, but they’re gone now. I’m just me,” Peter says. Though he’d been trying to get back his powers, he hadn’t realised how much he truly wanted them back. He’d felt unstoppable when he found out about the half of him that wasn’t human. With his powers gone, he’d felt strange. Like, yes, he was the captain and the other Guardians deemed him so, and he knew he fit in with his family, but he just felt weird about his place in the team. After seeing his full potential and losing it, he felt like he brought nothing to the table anymore. He felt like a fifth Beatle.

“Let’s try that again, shall we? Peter. Peter Quill… you're not that much different to any other superhero out there. You need to find what makes you,  _ you _ . All of us have to do that journey of self discovery some day or other. You're still part Celestial. That part of you doesn't get erased when your father dies. It's still there.”

“Would you know how to bring that back?” Peter asks hopefully.

“Maybe I would have an idea on how I could help you.” Carol pauses and retracts her hands from the pager for a moment before picking it up again. “Hey, one question? You're not a Skrull right? I thought I'd helped most of them find a new home, but I'm still locating hundreds of them spread throughout the cosmos.” 

Peter doesn’t answer her, turning to give Gamora a bewildered look before asking, “No offence, but what the actual hell is a skrull?”

Gamora rolls her eyes to stare at Peter almost incredulously. “A skrull is another alien species. They're most common for being the shapeshifting type. They can take the form of anything that they want and blend right in among us.”

“I’ve never heard of one and they’ve never passed by my Ravager base,” Peter mutters, trying his best to recall if he’d ever seen one. “Though, if they can shapeshift, I wouldn’t know if they did pass through.”

“Hey, question. I told Gamora this, but she didn’t really buy it. Are you human? I thought you were, ‘cause you gave Gamora a pager and had human military stuff,” Peter questions. He was curious about whether he was right after all.

“It depends on what you mean by asking if I'm human. If you're asking if I had a somewhat normal human life at some point then you would be correct. So, at one point or another, I  _ was _ a human. The difference is I haven't changed in the slightest but the times are starting to. Besides, I'm not fully human even now. Maybe you understand what it feels like since you're a half Celestial.” 

“I get it. So half human, half Kree,” Peter says. He was excited about finding this other human-ish person in space. Though he was not the only human-resembling being in space, he was the only one who was actually human. It was inevitable for him to feel lonely every once in a while. He never had any friends on Earth, most kids preferred bullying him for his young mom and beating him up for his lack of a father. In the Ravagers, he didn’t really have any friends his age except Milano, but even so, Milano wasn’t human.

“So, are you on Earth?” Peter asks, glancing to Gamora with a triumphant smile at his correct assumption.

Gamora just sticks her tongue out and wiggles her fingers in Peter's direction. “Being on Earth doesn't have to mean anything! You can be a hero anywhere you want to be. Don't act so smug about it.” 

Carol hesitates upon answering before finding the right words. “To answer your question, _yes_ , I am on planet C-53. I am a human. I can prove that I'm not a skrull if you'd like. So… what's your story? What's a man like you doing floating around the galaxy?”

“When I was eight, my mom died of cancer and that same day, I got kidnapped by Ravagers,” Peter recounts. Looking back on his story now, it seemed almost unbelievable. “I was raised by them for the larger part of my life. Never went back to Earth, it was too painful to, so I stayed in space. Sometimes, I wonder if I should go back. Just to see, you know? Last time I was on Earth, it was the 1980s.”

“Huh. I suppose anything is possible.” Carol is pretty dismissive of the outlandish background of the idea. “That’s no weirder than my old superior revealing to me moments prior to her death that she wasn't human. She told me her real name and that she was a Kree warrior. If she wasn't leaking blue blood I probably would've thought otherwise.” She tilts her head to one side and shrugs her shoulders. “I have a life here on C-53. Well… I  _ had  _ one anyways.” 

“Hey, if you’re on Earth, maybe we could visit,” Peter suggests.

“I don't get visitors all that often. The pager I gave Gamora was supposed to be used for emergencies only but… I suppose it's alright. I didn't know if she was still alive anyways. If you feel like visiting, feel free to fly down. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stay on Earth though, because my commitments aren’t just to the life I've created here.” 

“Maybe I’ll stay on the ship when we visit,” Peter mumbles. “Gamora and you could catch up. I’d just… rather not be on Earth. I don’t like Earth at all.”

Gamora turns to stare at Peter and shakes her head. “Peter. You can’t spend your entire life running in the opposite direction of your fears. It's never going to get you anywhere.” She felt like a hypocrite for ridiculing him. Gamora had spent her entire life trying to outrun her problems only to find herself caught in more roadblocks than necessary. Peter raises an eyebrow in silent question, like he’s asking her if she’s for real. Gamora just returns the stare as Carol speaks up.

“She's right, you know. This place may not be your home anymore but, at one point, it was. You owe it to yourself to come back here and have proper closure. After all, it’s not the planet that makes you uncomfortable, just the memories. One day, you're going to have to face them.” 

“I guess,” Peter says. “We’ll see about that. But we’ve got nothing to do now and we all need to catch a break, so maybe we’ll actually go to Earth. I’ll just tell the others I want to get a new Walkman from there. Rocket could laugh at the pathetic tech or something.” 

“Okay,” Carol says. Only a moment of silence passes between them. “So, are you coming?” She was aware she only waited about ten seconds for a proper answer. Patience had never been Carol's strong suit. “I'm assuming you're coming. Also… a Walkman? A…  _ what _ ? I'm not sure what that is. I know there's a bar that still has record players in it. The tech on C-53 is nothing compared to other civilizations like the Kree.”

“Family vacation, yay…” Peter trails off. He was already regretting suggesting the visit. The thought of returning to the planet his mother died on sickened him, especially since it was so soon since killing his father and watching Yondu die for him. Especially with the knowledge of the fact that it was a murder and not illness. Though the likelihood of Carol being in Missouri was slim to none, it was Earth as an entirety that gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach. Though, he also figured it was time to go back, just for a while. Carol and Gamora were right, he had to go back to where he started eventually. It has been over thirty years, but that doesn’t mean the thought of going back doesn’t make him anxious. He wonders if Earth will feel just as empty, as meaningless as it felt the last time he’d been there.

Gamora looks over at Peter as a clenching feeling settles in her stomach. “Yes, a family vacation… one where we're all going to support you. I know you've still got surviving family members on Earth. I wonder if they still think about you… plus, you could always visit your mother's spot. I know that's not something you'd want to do alone.” She rests a palm across his shoulder comfortingly. Maybe going back to Earth wasn't the proper move; maybe they should reconsider before it was too late. As much as she wanted to see her friend again, Gamora  _ knew  _ it was selfish to ignore Peter's apprehension. “We don't have to go. We can just find another planet to relocate to.”

“Thanks, Gamora,” Peter says sincerely, patting her hand in gratitude. “And we should go to Earth. I’ve got stuff to get and Carol’s there anyway, it’s more convenient for everyone. And I have to go back sometime, eventually…”

Little electric pulses coursed through her veins when their hands connected. The touch was so brief and yet, so heartfelt. There was more to be said for the way he brushed his fingertips against the back of her hand. “I don't know how convenient it is for everyone.” Seeing Vers again or the very thought of doing so made her heart squeeze in her chest. “I know you have to go back and face your fears eventually but if you're not ready to do so now, it's okay. I'm not going to push you into doing something you don't want to do.” 

“It’s fine,” Peter says. “Where are you at specifically, so I know where to find you?” Peter asks Carol.

“Oh, here's the thing… I'm not exactly sure where I am?” Carol says, sounding a bit confused.

“Then just leave your pager on. I’ll try to track its signal to you,” Peter instructs. When the line on the pager drops, Peter stands, offering a hand to Gamora to help her up.

“We should go, Mantis probably already found Groot a puzzle or something,” Peter says, glancing back towards the crowded markets. “I need to set coordinates and figure out where the hell Carol actually is. I rarely left Missouri.”

“Peter… we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can already  _ tell  _ it's not something you want to do. You don't have to compromise your life for me. Also, as for Mantis…” Her voice trails off as she gestures over towards a nearby outcropping where Mantis was huddling with Groot.

“I'm sorry for eavesdropping. I couldn't help but notice the tension and stress, and… are we going to Earth? Groot was being nosy. I've never been to Earth before. If we go, I can find another plant for my journal,” Mantis says, looking between Peter and Gamora.

Peter glances towards Gamora, but answers the question himself, “Yeah. I want to see if my mom maybe had another Walkman lying around. I don’t know if you can find any plants worth keeping but you can go crazy with it.” Mantis and Groot leave excitedly to tell the other Guardians about their next destination while Peter and Gamora follow behind them back to the ship.

Not for the first time that day, Gamora feels her blistering, cold heart softening at Peter's gentleness. Even when he could've told the others about Vers, he still chose  _ not  _ to. There was something to be said for an admirable kind of loyalty like that. “Maybe she left a Walkman somewhere around the house or bought an extra to stuff away somewhere inside.” 

“I guess I can go check it out. I’m pretty sure I have a grave on Earth. That’ll be fun to look at,” Peter says. The intent for humour was clear, but it was obvious that the thought disturbed him a little. “I’m not gonna look for my actual family, if you were wondering. I don’t really want to see them.”

“I didn't need to know that but it's important to you. You probably do have a grave out there on Earth. As for your actual family, I think you should look for them. Seeing them will be better than nothing.” 

“I mean, yeah, they’re my blood relatives. But so was Ego,” Peter points out. “Plus, everyone thought my mom was crazy. I hated it. And they always said they loved me, but I know, deep down, they thought I was a burden. Their daughter’s like nineteen years old and she has to raise a kid? They probably put up a grave for me the day I disappeared.”

“I guess I understand that. Ego shouldn't be in the list at all. Your blood relatives are arguably nothing like him. It's okay if you don't want to see them. I just want you to know that you're not such a burden like you make yourself out to be.”

“Thank you,” Peter smiles gently. “I want to see if my mom had anything left, though. I have to go back.”

“If that's what you really want, then okay. Only if you wanted it as badly as you say,” Gamora threads her fingers through her belt loop and nods. “I don't want you doing this to just do it to assist me.” 

“We all need a break,” Peter says, walking ahead to get the ship ready. Rocket follows him, wanting to ask him why he wanted to return to Earth. Drax, Mantis and Groot were absent, already in the ship. Gamora lingers a little before she finally walks into the ship, the door closing behind her. It had been refuelled while they were gone. Groot had a Rubix cube, apparently. Mantis had been excited by the colourful rotating cube and Rocket stole it for her and Groot. The Rubix had been horrendously overpriced since it was Terran property and Rocket just didn’t want to spend that kind of money on a toy.

Gamora leans against the side of the ship and finds her gaze lingering over the Rubix cube. Rocket was still going on about how he wasn't going to pay for such a ridiculous toy, but something about it just seemed... _ different _ . Her memory desperately tried to jog itself staring at the rainbow square. Somehow it wasn't Gamora's first time seeing an object like that.

Peter input the coordinates of Carol’s pager, setting a course for Earth as he takes his place in the pilot’s seat. He puts in a clone of the tape Ego crushed, taking in the sounds of the first track, one of Groot’s favourites;  _ Mr Blue Sky  _ by Electric Light Orchestra. The young tree started dancing to it happily while Drax fell asleep. Mantis was reading one of the few books Peter kept lying around; Peter made a mental note to get her more books when they reach Earth. Perhaps Carol had some on Earth that she no longer wanted and would be willing to give them to him.

Rocket sat in the other pilot’s seat, his ears occasionally twitching as he gazes out upon the galaxy. “Any specific reason as to why we're going to Earth? I'm not really sure that you're selling this trip to me. You just suddenly had a change of heart and want to visit your homeworld? How does that happen?” His paws wrap around the controls for the ship as he glances over at Peter again. “You've never liked Earth since the moment you were taken from that place.”

“Rocket.” Gamora's voice sounds flat and tired. She's in no mood for the arguing or rebuttals. “How about instead of trying to stir up an argument, the two of you focus on piloting the ship? The last time something like this happened, we ended up almost dying in space. Then we crashed our ship on a planet called Berhert in the middle of nowhere. We don't have the units to keep making repairs.”

“Gamora’s right,” Mantis agrees.

Peter answers him, “If you had to know, I wanna see if my mom had an extra Walkman. And we all need to take time off. I’m sure you can find some tech for your use.” Rocket decides to not argue or push it any further after Peter mentions the Walkman. He knew Peter wasn’t exactly having the easiest time, he’d seen it firsthand hours ago. He relents, piloting the ship with him quietly as they made their way to Earth.


	3. Chapter 3

That morning, Carol woke and immediately sensed something about the day would be slightly off. She never knew how to pinpoint the feeling, just knowing it was there and was almost always right was enough. The air was different, the room she slept in seemed different and even the pillows  _ felt  _ different. It was such a ridiculous sentiment, considering nothing in the room had changed. It was the same room she had been taking up at Maria’s place in the wake of rescuing another group of Skrulls and relocating them. The same house with the same people nestled in the same scenic, nearly remote location. It all looked the same but it all just appeared so  _ off _ .

Sitting up in bed and pushing the plush sheets down around her ankles, she stares out the small window. Her mornings usually started this way: just at the crack of dawn waking to watch the sunrise. It reminded her of her short lived life on Hala for six years. If she were there right now, she would be staring out of the same room on a technologically advanced society. The view on C-53 was refreshing; instead of industrial buildings, robotics and space ships, there were rolling hills of green grass. There were some roads with the occasional passing cars and airplanes that zoomed through the pale blue sky. Everything about C-53 was still so beautiful and mysterious to Carol.

Her fingers press against the glass and she wonders, not for the first time, what her life would've been like had she not chosen to listen to the recording on the black box all those years ago. Would she still be amongst the Kree, a group of aliens she had considered noble warrior heroes? Would she be of any value to them or still bound to the orders of the Supreme Intelligence? Without a doubt, had she not broken away from the Kree, they would've annihilated Skrulls from existence. Still, Carol finds herself wondering just how different her life would've been, depending on her choice.

Like her choice to openly get involved with another warrior out in the galaxy. For those six years, while her memories were so deeply buried, she came to know another warrior who worked to maintain an alliance with the Kree. It had been so long since she last gave it much thought, especially since the return of her memories after breaking free of Kree rule. She had a  _ life  _ on C-53 and a family that cared for her, with Maria and Monica. It was hard to leave them behind to aid Skrulls in finding a new home. Now that she was finally back, and had been for a few months, she had no intentions of leaving for a while. 

Which is why the transmission that came through on her pager was  _ so  _ inconvenient. That morning she was set to task on making breakfast for Maria and Monica: pancakes with butter and syrup. Before she could even get started, the sound of the pager whirring filled her ears. Pulling it out she could hear voices veiled by the crackling static. “Excuse me? Hello? Hello, can you hear me?” She presses a few buttons on the pager in an attempt to clear the signal. It was a little surprising the batteries managed to still work.

“ _ I guess you didn’t wire the batteries correctly _ .” The voice came through perfectly now as Carol stares at the pager. 

Another voice comes through, saying, “ _ No, I know I did. There’s someone on the other end of that. _ ”

Picking it up slowly and clicking the button, she shakes her head. Who were these people and exactly  _ how  _ did they get their hands on her pager? “I have no idea who this is, but I’m pretty sure those batteries are wired in correctly. Can you hear me?” When there’s no response, Carol continues, “Anyway, I’m not sure how you got this pager? I recall only ever giving one to someone who was —“

“I gave this to one of my… one of the people who were important to me. Are you…” Carol pauses, a foggy memory of an old friend shifting in her mind.  “I mean… who are you? I thought I was finished temporarily with… you’re not with the Kree, are you?”

The voice on the other side of the line sounds startled and confused. “ _ No, I’m just with a few friends. I promise none of us are with the Kree. Not too long ago, they had a bounty out on our heads… they probably still have active bounties on us. Vers — _ ”

How could this person  _ know  _ her old Kree name? That wasn't her name and hadn't been in years. The memories of the time Carol spent on Hala seemed to grow ever distant with each passing day, but yet the voice sounded so familiar...

“My name  _ isn’t _ Vers. It’s Carol. Carol Danvers… but I know who  _ you _ are now. I remember you. Gamora… how the  _ hell _ are you still alive?” 

The voice from before that accompanied Gamora's chimes in, “ _ I told you about the name thing. We saved the universe. Twice, actually. Of course we’re still alive. _ ”

Who was this new person? Carol couldn't begin to piece together why. out of the last six years or so, Gamora only tried contacting her now. Maybe she was just feeling a little bitter towards her old friend. It was hard to unsee Gamora with the Kree in her mind's eye when that was how they originally met. 

Carol snorts and remarks, “Now  _ that’s _ definitely a voice I don’t recognise. What’s your name?”

His voice comes through sounding proudly, “ _ I’m Star-Lord, legendary outlaw. Peter Quill. Gamora’s friend. _ ”

He sounds too sure of himself at first. Definitely has a cocky attitude and seems to think he can conquer the universe. Carol finds his determination and pride admirable but misplaced. He had  _ no _ idea who he was talking to or what he was dealing with.

“I’m glad Gamora made some friends. I’d heard about the latest explosion — I mean, the most recent disruption caused in the galaxy. Something about a powerful being exploding? I suppose you’re the cause of that. I mean, they can’t be  _ that _ powerful if you defeated them single-handedly.” Carol was sure that would stir a reaction out of him.

“Carol?” Maria calls, following the sound of her friend’s voice to see Carol seated at the table, a pager in front of her. Carol gives her a look, followed by a glance down at the pager. Maria gets the hint — Carol’s on a call. She was curious who with, so she takes a seat next to Carol.

A man on the other end says, in response to something Carol had said before her arrival, “ _ That was us. It wasn’t even hard to take the guy down. I mean, he went down  _ easy.  _ Not to brag or anything, but — nothing. But nothing _ .” Maria raises an eyebrow to Carol, silently asking for an explanation as to who ‘the guy’ was and the identity of the man on the call.

Carol just looks over at Maria and shrugs her shoulders. There was no way in hell she was going to introduce this new guy as Star-Lord. Maria had heard crazier things in the years since Carol obtained her glowing source of powers but that wasn't really the same. 

“Oh really? That’s interesting. Celestials are supposed to be one of the strongest beings in the galaxy. To take one down has to be supremely difficult. I’m sure you weren’t intending to brag whatsoever. I could brag with you too. I’ve saved thousands upon thousands of lives all throughout the galaxy. It shouldn’t be a competition.” 

Maria resists rolling her eyes, though it was purely out of fondness for her friend. Carol was proud of everything she’d accomplished and was confident about her abilities. It was one of the qualities Maria loved most about Carol.

“ _ That’s so cool _ ,” the stranger replies. Carol mouths to Maria ‘this guy’s called Peter.’ Maria nods, taking note of that.

Carol continues speaking, half explaining to Maria and half talking to Peter, “I thought Gamora died in the years she was serving under her superiors. I hadn’t heard from her in so long I just assumed she was lost somewhere in the galaxy without ability to contact me.”

Maria’s eyes widen, and she mouths to Carol, “Who is Gamora?” 

Carol waves her away, like she’ll explain more later, and continues, “I would also guess you’re the ones who created that energy pulse in the cosmos a couple of months back. Saving the universe is a pretty huge job. How did you manage to pull that off? What kind of superpowers do you have? Surely, you must have a superior roster of powers to pull off something so powerful.”

Peter replies, “ _ I was half-Celestial, so I had all these cool godlike powers. They disappeared when I killed my dad, though. Since it happened, I’ve been trying to get back my powers, but it just ain’t working. _ ”

Godlike powers? Maria’s life just got crazier and crazier ever since Carol came back as a warrior alien. She shakes her head in Carol’s direction, as if quietly telling her how ridiculous it all sounds.

“ _ Peter, you’re trying to get your powers back?! How could you not tell me? It’s not a big deal or anything but I tell you everything! _ ” Carol has to hold back a chuckle at how disappointed Gamora sounds. Time didn't seem to change either of them very much. 

“ _ I mean, yeah, I am. I didn’t think it was a big deal! It wasn’t working out so I assumed I didn’t have to tell anyone! _ ” 

In the midst of the small argument developing between the two, a fact strikes Carol once more. “You  _ were _ half-Celestial?” And to think she thought this guy bit off more than he could chew by bragging. Though the use of past tense begs her curiosity. Why would a seemingly prideful guy like him not want to claim his powerful heritage?

“ _ Yeah… I lost all my abilities after I killed my Celestial dad. I was immortal, could fly, manipulate everything around me and had all these super cool energy blasts, but they’re gone now. I’m just me. _ ” Carol hadn’t known the full extent of a Celestial’s powers, but she knows now why they were regarded as one of the most powerful alien in the galaxy. Though, with an attitude like that, this Star-Lord person was going to need a lot of work if he ever wanted to harness those abilities again. 

“Let’s try that again, shall we? Peter. Peter Quill… you’re not that much different to any other superhero out there. You need to find what makes you,  _ you _ . All of us have to do that journey of self-discovery some day or other. You’re still part Celestial. That part of you doesn’t get erased when your father dies. It’s still there.” 

“ _ Would you know how to bring that back? _ ” Peter sounded so hopeful about the possibility of regaining his powers, Carol couldn’t find it in her to say no. 

“Maybe I would have an idea on how I could help you.” Carol replies.

Maria smiles at Carol’s offer to help Peter. Despite not knowing Peter personally, she was still ready to help him, like she’d stepped up to help all those Skrulls. Maria admired Carol’s selflessness and generosity. She may be fierce, but her heart was made of gold.

Carol pauses in her offer of assistance to think things through before asking another question. “Hey, one question? You’re not a Skrull, right? I thought I’d helped most of them find a new home, but I’m still locating hundreds of them spread throughout the cosmos.”

“ _ No offence, but what the actual hell is a Skrull? _ ” Peter asks. Maria almost wants to laugh — she’s a regular human and even  _ she _ knows what a Skrull is.

“ _ A skrull is another alien species. They’re most common for being the shapeshifting type. They can take the form of anything that they want and blend right in among us. _ ” Gamora sounds almost annoyed and a bit irritated at having to point it out.

“ _ I’ve never heard of one and they’ve never passed by my Ravager base. Though, if they can shapeshift, I wouldn’t know if they did pass through. Hey, question. I told Gamora this, but she didn’t really buy it. Are you human? I thought you were, ‘cause you gave Gamora a pager and had human military stuff _ ,” Peter’s voice comes through the pager. It piques Maria’s attention — Peter is a human too.

“It depends on what you mean by asking if I’m human. If you’re asking if I had a somewhat normal human life at some point, then you would be correct. So, at one point or another, I  _ was _ a human. The difference is I haven’t changed in the slightest but the times are starting to. Besides, I’m not fully human even now. Maybe you understand what it feels like since you’re a half-Celestial.” 

“ _ I get it. So half-human, half-Kree. So, are you on Earth? _ ”

“ _ Being on Earth doesn’t have to mean anything! You can be a hero anywhere you want to be. What does Earth have to do with it? _ ” Carol can recognize the tinge of impatience in Gamora's tone. It always seemed to surface whenever she became tired of offering explanations.

“To answer your question,  _ yes _ , I am on planet C-53. I am a human. I can prove that I’m not a skrull if you’d like. So… what’s your story? What’s a man like you doing floating around the galaxy?” 

“ _ When I was eight, my mom died of cancer and that same day, I got kidnapped by Ravagers. I was raised by them for the larger part of my life. Never went back to Earth, it was too painful to, so I stayed in space. Sometimes, I wonder if I should go back. Just to see, you know? Last time I was on Earth, it was the 1980s. _ ” Peter’s story was probably just as absurd as her own. His loss of his mother seems to have taken as large a toll on him just as her superior’s reveal had taken on her. His childhood with the Ravagers would explain his pride and his title as ‘legendary outlaw’. 

“Huh. I suppose anything is possible. That’s no weirder than my old superior revealing to me moments prior to her death that she wasn’t human. She told me her real name and that she was a Kree warrior. If she wasn’t leaking blue blood, I probably would’ve thought otherwise. I have a life here on C-53. Well… I  _ had _ one, anyways.” 

“ _ Hey, if you’re on Earth, maybe we could visit. _ ”

His words hit her like an oncoming train. A visit from intergalactic bandits with bounties on their heads? To Carol, it didn't seem like such a great idea, but this Peter Quill guy seemed to convince her that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , one visit to Earth would be enough to close off the chapter of her life that was Vers. “Okay. I don't see why not. Though you're probably going to have to track your own way here. I can't really give you my information—” As the pager’s signal cracked and faded out, she sighs and tosses it into a box, leaving it on for them to track the signal.

All those years spent on Hala truly did a number on Carol’s mind and conscience. A host of her memories were scattered and either long lost or entirely forgotten. Not to mention the emotional toll it took on her for spending so much time as a Kree soldier. She wasn't upset or angry that Gamora was reaching out to her. Rather, she was annoyed that of all the times it could have happened, it had to be  _ now _ . 

Reaching for the pancake batter mix from the cabinets, Carol starts setting out a collection of pots and pans before turning the oven on. “So, when is Monica supposed to be up?” This was how the mornings with Carol usually went. She would mostly keep to herself and just do things to keep the day moving until the sun found itself falling behind the horizon line once more. “I was going to make you both pancakes. Didn't know if you wanted strawberries or blueberries as toppings for them so I grabbed both from the fridge.” 

“Monica will be up in half an hour,” Maria answers, gaze following Carol around the kitchen. Her arms were folded, an indication of an impending question.

Out of the corner of her eye Carol could see the way Maria's arms folded over her chest. Maybe if she just ignored the awkward conversation from the pager everything would go back to normal. Of course she knew that it wouldn't satisfy Maria and they would end up talking about all of this anyways. It was still fun to pretend that the topic was entirely avoidable. Hunching her shoulders together a bit, she redirects her attention to the box of pancake mix.

It was hard to play it cool, acting as though the situation was nothing short of natural. Maria was probably still waiting for an answer about who Gamora was but Carol just couldn't do it. She didn't want to talk about it, not with her best friend… not with Gamora, not with anybody. No matter how hard she tried to escape her past, it always caught up to her in the end. “I've already set up the syrup for you both to use. Any company coming over the next few days? I very oddly think I might have some visitors coming through on our side of the galaxy.” 

“Yeah, sure. If you tell me who the hell those people were,” Maria replies, raising an eyebrow. Even though it’s been a while since she was introduced to Carol’s new world and to get informed on it, she was still unsure of some details of Carol’s time in space. Specifically, the people she met. The ‘people’ in question — the ones on the pager earlier. “You know you can talk to me about it. No judgement here.” Maria knows Carol was still adjusting to her life on Earth, despite not having the intention to stay for long. Earth — or C-53, as she still referred to it as — was still so foreign to her and though Carol never showed it, it was clear that she still had issues after the whole ordeal with the Kree.

Carol's spine runs rigid at Maria's question as though it were suddenly filled with ice. There was no way her best friend was going to let her walk away from this conversation. It didn't change the fact that it wasn't one she wanted to have. Her palms move to rest against the counter as she closes her eyes, her back kept to Maria. She couldn't let her see her like this. “I wasn't lying when I said I didn't know who the guy was. Peter Quill, I think that’s what he said his name is. I don't know him. I've never known anyone by that name.” She doesn't include the detail that even if she  _ did  _ know him, he might be part of the lost or damaged memories from the Kree. “Mhm, I know I can talk about it with you. Yeah,” Carol responds but her voice seems distant. 

“Who is Gamora? And Peter?” Maria asks. “It’s looking like it’s a sensitive topic. Are they with the Kree?”

“I don't really know anything about Peter. I guess he's a friend of Gamora’s. As for her…” Her fingers wrap around the counter and, for just a brief moment, Carol feels as though she is slipping. The feeling is bizarre and unfamiliar, considering how she was always so sure of all the choices she made. All except this one. “Gamora says she's not with the Kree but that's how I first met her. She's just someone I knew during the six years I spent on Hala. I've been living two very different lives. It's all a lot to take in at once.” 

“If they aren’t with the Kree, then what’s the matter? You never get this bothered by anything,” Maria points out, hoping Carol would confide in her about her past. Though Maria knew a portion of the six years she was absent, there were still pockets she had yet to fill. She wanted to help Carol out, but she also needed to know more about the new her if she wanted to do so.

“What are you talking about? I'm fine. Nothing is bothering me.” She shrugs her shoulders again as if to casually brush the ordeal off as some meaningless little thing. “I'll be okay, really. It's nothing.” Carol doesn't even realize that her hands have a deathly grip on the counter now. Her knuckles are turning white from how hard she's grabbing at the material. Her hands begin to feel sweaty and warm but she's looking out the window, not noticing that the warmth is a result of her powers kick starting up and beginning to melt down the sides of the counter. Bright flashes flicker behind her eyes: meetings with the Supreme Intelligence, shocks from the chip inside of her neck, all of the punishments and battles hard fought but still lost. Her breath comes in jagged wheezes as her fingernails dig into the counter, the loss of control spreading.

She feels a hand rest on hers. Maria’s voice sounds far away as she asks, “Carol, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?” Maria guides Carol back to the table, pulling out a chair to rest her gently on it. “Breathe with me, Carol.” She takes in slow deep breaths as Carol follows her.

Almost immediately Carol's hands cool down when Maria's rests against hers. Her gaze drops to watch Maria's hand. It's not the first time Carol has felt incredibly close to Maria in ways she couldn't explain. “I'm okay,” She whispers, though her voice sounds tight and controlled. “There's a lot of little things I'm missing. A lot I have to tell you…” As she follows after Maria to the table she refuses to let go of her hand, holding onto it tightly. In Carol's mind Maria was like the moon or the sun; no matter what she was always drawn to her. 

Her breaths are shaky and quivering as she wraps her other hand around Maria's. The nerves and jitters were still there; she felt a distinct desire to somehow pull Maria closer. “I used to have history with Gamora. I mean, we used to… we used to kind of date, I guess.” Maria nods understandingly, truly not a streak of judgement running across her face. Carol continues, encouraged by Maria’s care, “Back when I was still Vers… back when I didn't know that I was more than just a Kree warrior. She was… she is an amazing warrior too, like me, but she’s the adoptive daughter of some kind of mad titan that's always causing trouble. She’s not like him but…” 

“I can see you’re not feeling like talking about that… I’m sorry for pushing it. If you don’t want to talk about it yet, it’s fine. Just know that I’m here for you,” Maria says sincerely, taking Carol’s hands in hers in an effort to comfort her.

“It's just a lot to take in. The Kree… they messed with my mind, Maria. Made me forget about my life here on Earth and controlled my memories with a chip in my neck. The chip was a direct link to our Supreme Intelligence, which would simulate the person we most respect or admire. I'd always see her. I'd always see Mar-Vell, and even after getting the strength to break away the chip, it still costed something.” Heat pricks at the corners of her eyes but she refuses to cry. She doesn't want to.

“If you want to cry, it’s okay, Carol. I’m here for you,” Maria says softly. A hand leaves Carol’s to run through Carol’s blonde hair. “I know I would if I’d gone through half the crap you have.”

“I don't want to cry. I hate...I hate crying,” She mumbles as her hands brush against her cheeks. Salty drops of liquid are on her hands as Maria's fingers thread through her hair. The sensation was  _ new _ . Never before had Maria caressed her hair so gently, tracing every little curl and smoothing them out against her back. Tipping her head back just a little and eyeing Maria the tiniest of smiles appears on Carol's face as she ran her fingers through her hair again. She longed to experience that feeling again and again.

“You are so strong for dealing with all that and still doing so much good. Carol… it’s okay to be weak sometimes. It’s alright to just let it all go. Nobody would blame you, especially not me,” Maria pulls her into a warm embrace. “I love you, girl. You know I do.”

“You're strong too, you know. You kept pushing onward even after you lost me. I know you had your own family but I was… and I still  _ am _ your best friend. You had to live with thinking I died on a mission so secretive that nobody wanted to acknowledge it even happened. You're so much stronger than you realize… and even after all that time, you're still here building and repairing your own planes.” She smiles but her eyes are shiny with unshed tears as their bodies come together in a hug. Maria always gave the best hugs… and this one was no different. “I love you too,” Carol whispers more quietly and for the first time she wonders if Maria knows what she means by that.

Maria gives her a breathtaking smile. “How soon do you think they’ll be here?” Maria asks, glancing out the window into the sky. It was clear and beautiful, and Maria keeps thinking she’s going to see a gigantic spaceship crash in her yard. Making a joke, albeit not that funny, Maria says, “So I know how soon I need to get more syrup for those pancakes you made.”

“I don't know. It could take them maybe a few hours. They're going to track the pager because I didn't give them my location. I think it's because I didn't want to.” Carol smiles half heartedly at Maria's attempt at a joke. No matter what, she always found ways to warm the cold, empty spaces of her heart. “And you don't need to get syrup…” Her eyes light up with amusement. “I think we have more in the fridge. I'm going to check.”

As she turns away from Maria, a smirk finds its way across her face. She reaches for the fridge handle and suddenly spins around to charge at Maria, sending the two of them rolling together in a tight hug as they tumble into the living room. When they finally stop rolling around, Carol finds herself looking down on Maria as their foreheads rest against each other. “You had to know that was coming. I love surprising you,” She smiles a little and takes the opportunity to study the color of Maria's eyes. They are so beautiful and she knows it's true because every chance she gets, Carol is  _ always  _ telling her that. 

“And I love your surprises,” Maria smiles back. Carol was a truly beautiful person, inside and out. Maria was sure she knew nobody who was stronger than the woman in front of her. She felt so lucky to know her. Monica was more than happy to have such a strong woman to look up to. Maria couldn’t be more glad that Carol was that woman.

“Oh, you do? So I'm sure you appreciate me accidentally melting down part of your counter. Sorry about that by the way. I'm still getting the hang of these powers.” She playfully nudges Maria before wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close, tucking into her side.  _ This  _ was never something she would've been allowed to do on Hala.

“Whatever happens when your friend arrives, we’ll deal with it together, okay? You’re not alone in this,” Maria says reassuringly, tucking a stray hair behind Carol’s ear. “Also, you’re  _ so _ paying for my counter.”

“What?!” Carol's voice sounds almost incredulous at the idea. “With  _ what _ money am I paying for that counter? Besides, I think the melting looks… cool. You could always sell it as a piece of art.” She jokes, giggling and nuzzling the side of her neck. “An artistic original by Carol Danvers.”

“Yeah, people  _ pay _ for art, genius,” Maria teases. “I paid good money for that counter.”

“Okay, so you can  _ sell  _ the counter as a piece of art and make back some of that money,” Carol counters, a slight smirk on her face. 

“Mom, Carol?” Monica’s voice interrupts them. The young girl stares at them with wide, innocent eyes, before she breaks into a large grin, “I want to join the hug!”

“Come here, baby,” Maria laughs, one hand extending towards Monica to welcome her.

The warm body crashing against her side makes Carol laugh as she turns to face Monica, her other arm extending to wrap around the little girl. “There's my girl! What's up, Lieutenant Trouble?” Her eyes are bright as she starts to ruffle Monica's hair affectionately. That was one thing about Carol that always seemed to stand out: she had always been good with Monica and great with children in general.

“I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?” Monica asks, glancing between the two women.

“Pancakes. Carol made them, so you know they’re bad, but be polite about it,” Maria jokes, whispering to Monica loudly enough for Carol to hear. Monica laughs, nodding. 

Carol jokingly elbows Maria between the ribs, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “Pancakes that  _ I  _ made which, for your information, are going to taste amazing. I have nothing to prove. Why don't you taste them yourself?” She winks over at Maria before ruffling Monica's hair again. The playful banter was something Carol always appreciated. It made the house feel more like a home because that's what it was: it was  _ her  _ home.

“Also baby, there’s guests coming later, so maybe leave some for them,” Maria says as Monica stands to get herself breakfast. Monica shouts her acknowledgment as she excitedly runs to the kitchen, wanting to eat the pancakes.

Maria stands up, helping Carol up with a wide grin, “Let’s go see if your pancakes are edible, Danvers.”

Dusting off her knees, Carol rolls her eyes but lets Maria help her to her feet. “You know I don't need you to pick me up when I'm down all the time. I can always get back up on my own… and they're definitely edible. Some might say they're the  _ best  _ pancakes in the galaxy.”

Maria loved teasing Carol, she liked to see her friend get flustered. She especially liked when Carol had a clever response ready to fire back at her. They’d always been so comfortable around one another. 

They went to the kitchen, where Monica already had a short stack of pancakes on her plate. Maria stops her from lathering too much syrup on her pancakes and Carol laughs at just how much of a kid Monica was. Granted, she  _ is _ a kid, but it didn’t make it any less endearing. Maria raised a lovely girl all on her own.

Maria got out two plates and handed one to Carol as they got their own pancakes, leaving just a few for their guests. Maria wasn’t sure whether their visit was a good idea after realising how uncomfortable the idea of it made Carol, but Maria also knew Carol wouldn’t do anything if not a single part of her wanted to. It would also give her closure, Maria hoped. She just wanted what was best for Carol.

“Who’s coming, Mom?” Monica asks, fork stabbing a pancake. “Are they more friends of Auntie Carol’s?”

“I wouldn't exactly call them friends but they're not really enemies. I would say… acquaintances,” Carol finally decides as she pulls up a chair and leans over to Monica. She cups her hands around the little girl's ear and whispers obviously too loudly, “Don't tell your mom, but I think my acquaintances might be bringing you a little gift. I may have asked them to bring something back for one of the toughest kids in the world…” 

“I can’t wait!” Monica cheers. She had been so excited with meeting the Skrulls, it was no surprise she was just as enthusiastic about this band of space misfits.

“Better be some gift…” Maria says, shaking her head fondly as she takes a bite of her pancakes.

Eyeing Maria with a fork full of pancake, Carol raises one eyebrow challengingly. “So, what do you think of the pancakes? I followed the instructions on the box… kind of. I added some of my own special touches to it.”

“It’s…” Maria trails off, exaggerating savouring the flavour, before she finished, “... passable. I’m not foaming at the mouth, so that’s a bonus.” 

“ _ Just  _ passable?” Carol tilts her head to one side and blows a stray piece of blonde hair away from her eyes. “That doesn't make any sense. I followed the directions down to the last detail… mostly. Are they really that bad?”

Maria laughs, nudging Carol playfully, “I’m kidding. They taste  _ amazing _ , Carebear. You should make breakfast more often. If I could have pancakes like these every morning…” Maria stares off wistfully before she chuckles, returning back to her pancakes.

The playful nudge was all the reassurance Carol needed. It was nothing but a playful joke between them; but the nickname was what caught her off guard. It wasn't easy to surprise her but whenever Maria did, a rosy tint always flowed through Carol’s cheeks. Biting her lip, Carol does her best to pretend like the heat isn't flashing over her face. “Well, I'm so glad you like them. I don’t know about making breakfast more often though. You know how my powers can sometimes go a little haywire… which is why you've had to replace two microwaves so far.” 

“Mom, mom. Look!” Monica calls excitedly, running over to the window to glance out. Carol and Maria exchange knowing looks, a suspicion of what’s outside the window already creeping up on them. The two women go over to the window as well and look through the glass. 

A ship, not an Earth one for sure, is in the sky, descending in the open field behind Maria’s house. It looked like it’d sustained damage from battle but was fixed up well enough to be functionable. 

The size of the ship was unprecedented at best; for some reason, she had pictured it being smaller. Maybe all the time she spent on C-53 was making her forget the size of common spacecrafts. Back when she was helping relocate members of the Kree across the galaxies, large spacecrafts weren't uncommon. They made it easier to transport cargo and hold large quantities of people, usually ideal for leaders and those that wanted to live a rogue lifestyle. Still, it was weird to see one of these ships once again come hurtling down towards Earth. If she didn't know any better, Carol would think that there was currently an argument on the ship by all its teetering and tottering with the steering wheel.

“Looks like Auntie Carol’s guests are here,” Maria says to Monica. “Let’s go say hi. Maybe they want pancakes.”


	4. Chapter 4

Gamora feels absolutely frustrated by the current state of events. Arriving on Earth should've been a relatively simple task. Maybe the trip wouldn't be taking so long if Peter and Rocket could stop arguing for a few seconds long enough to notice they missed the jump point. Again. For the  _ second _ time in a row.

“I’m just asking! Why are we  _ really _ going to Earth?” Rocket pushes. At this point, Peter was sure that Rocket doesn’t actually care for the real reason and was just trying to make sure there was a lack of silence in the ship. The trip itself has been nothing but stressful to Peter. Rocket points out, “And you’re a terrible pilot. We’ve been flying in circles!”

“I’m sorry, dude,” Peter mutters, though the apology is sincere. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Peter…” Her hands wrap around his shoulder, warm and comforting yet firm. “Not to discourage you, but you do realize this is now the  _ third _ time we're floating around in orbit having to find our way back to the jump point? We keep missing it. Can't your bickering sessions with Rocket be postponed until we arrive on Earth? I'm nervous enough as it is without two of the best pilots in the galaxy being on each other’s case.” She squeezes his shoulder gently and fully gives him a chance to reply.

When Peter still doesn't respond, Gamora sighs and gives his body a gentle, bold shake. “Peter! Hellooo? Earth to Peter! Come on, you can't start forgetting who you are or where you are now. Snap out of it. I'm not worried about arriving late… Carol isn't really a morning person from what I remember, but that's not the point. What I'm trying to say is that maybe you should stay focused on one thing at a time?” It was a hopeful yet ridiculous idea and Gamora knew it. With Peter as the head captain of the team, there was no way he could only afford to be focused on one thing at a time. 

“Sorry, I’m being a really shit captain right now,” Peter shakes his head, running a hand over his face to bring his mind back to land. He wanted to go back and even if he didn’t, he knew this trip back to Earth was long overdue. He couldn’t stay away forever. He had to go now, while there was another reason to go, before he chickened out for the rest of his life.

“Look. I know being a captain is hard for you, okay? I know how intensive the pressure can be. Back when I was still under Thanos’ control, I was one of the more respected, superior warriors too. In fact, I think he was hoping that someday I would end up taking over the family business… whatever that's supposed to mean to  _ him _ . What I'm getting at is, I understand the daily pressures you experience being a leader for us and I just want you to know… I appreciate all that you do. I know the others are still learning manners so allow me to say thank you on behalf of the rest of the team.” 

Peter gives Gamora a small smile, saying quietly, “Thanks, Gamora. It… means a lot.” She was right, the others rarely shared words of appreciation to one another. Which means none of them really told Peter he was a good captain, or none of them told Rocket he’s a really great pilot, or none of them told Mantis that she was so much more powerful than she makes herself out to be. None of them told Gamora she was the physical embodiment of true strength, none of them told Groot that he was growing up so well, none of them told Drax that his honesty was appreciated at times. It felt nice to have someone break that pattern for once. Peter was glad that someone thought he was a good captain. He’d wanted nothing more than to make sure his crew was good.

“However,” Gamora clears her throat as her eyes glint with amusement and she continues, “this doesn't mean you can start avoiding your responsibilities. We still need to make sure we reach that jump point… so where is the next closest one?” Her arms rest on either side of his chair as she looks out on the vast galaxy. All Gamora could think about was the potential for reconnecting with Carol to be a disaster. 

Peter glances over at the screen before looking back up into space, “Three clicks. We’re not missing this one.” With a deep breath, Peter reaches the jump point.

He is back on Earth.

He had traced the signal of Carol’s pager to a somewhat remote area. There was a clearing that was wide enough for Peter to land the ship. He announces, “We’re landing!” Rocket gets to work in helping land the ship properly — he’d complained earlier about how long it took him to fix up the ship after the fiasco with Ego and he wasn’t taking the chance of it crash-landing.

Peter ushers Gamora closer to him so he can talk to her out of everyone else’s earshot. He asks her, voice soft, “So we’re gonna be giving Carol a house visit, right? How’re we gonna explain that?”

Gamora lowers her head and realizes not once during this trio did she consider just how to approach the house visit. Maybe it was for the best that she didn't plan ahead. None of the Guardians ever seemed to plan that far ahead. They just picked a goal to achieve and stuck with it. Visiting Carol somehow felt so much bigger than any mission she had ever been on. Was it really something she wanted to do? It didn’t matter. They had come all this way already and she didn't want it to be for nothing. “Honestly, I didn't think that far ahead…”

“I mean… I  _ could _ pretend they’re  _ my _ friends from back when I was on Earth…” Peter thinks aloud. “Then you could talk to Carol without being suspicious. But it depends if they wanna play along.”

“I don't know about that. There's no easy way to do that. Carol is… she can be a bit… intense at first. I'm not sure she would be willing to just play along like she's known you this whole time. Then again, you did tell her a lot of your background so maybe the others will just come to the conclusion that you've both met each other at some point. Either way, I'll figure it out. I always do,” Gamora says with a smile on her face. It was easy to play it off as though she knew what she was doing. In reality she didn't have a  _ clue _ what was going to happen and maybe some part of her didn't want to know.

The ship lands and, through the window, Peter can see two women and a young girl coming out the back door. The girl waves to the ship, a wide grin on her face. The blonde woman — Carol, watches a little warily, and the other woman has a welcoming smile. Peter turns to the other Guardians, eyeing their non-human features before he just shrugs, “The girl probably won’t freak out. It’ll be cool, let’s go.”

“ _ This _ is what your home planet looks like?!” Rocket exclaims, twitching his ears back to stare out at the vast landscape. “Man, Earth really does look different to just about every other place we've ever been to. I was expecting it to be more… I don't know. More of a place that looks like a half Celestial would come from.” 

“Well, this is the place a half-human came from,” Peter snorts. “This is it.”

“Well,  _ I  _ think it's beautiful,” Mantis replies in wonder, her fingers leaving behind little prints on the glass of the ship. “I've never seen so many plants in my life. Can we visit Earth every few months? I think I'm really going to like this place. Look at those pretty flowers!” 

“Uh, maybe. We’ll see,” Peter replies apprehensively. “But let’s not make a habit out of that, yeah? We’ve got commitments to space.”

Mantis points to a patch of wild daffodils before shoving Gamora playfully. Of all the Guardians, Mantis was still learning how to channel her inner strength so the playful shove accidentally caused Gamora to pitch forward a little. “Sorry about that, Gamora. I'm still getting used to-”

“It's okay,” Gamora laughs a little as she turns around to pat Mantis’ shoulder comfortingly. “You're incredibly strong, so much stronger than you realize. I know nobody ever really tells you that so I just wanted you to know. That's definitely not a bad thing either; it's a good thing, I promise you that.”

The Guardians disembark the ship one by one, Peter deciding to go last. He lingered in the ship for a moment, rethinking stepping off. It’d been easy to think about getting off the ship while he was in space but now that he was on Earth, it felt like his feet were cemented to the floor. He could see the girl excitedly welcoming the other Guardians, ignoring how they didn’t look human — she’s probably seen aliens before, then. He could also see Carol staring at him through the window like she’s wondering why he hasn’t gotten out of the ship yet.

Carol's eyes never leave that pinpoint on the ship, boring into the windows as she examines the man. She tilts her head just a little to one side; the few members of the rag tag team who did step off the ship didn't seem to feel like a threat. One of them was this pretty looking girl with antennae. She was standing with Monica, a smaller tree sitting on top of her shoulder. Upon further inspection the small tree-like object was…  _ moving _ . They unfurl a cube that looks similar to an Earth's rubix cube but instead it glows in a variety of neon colors like a rainbow with little flowers budding out of it.

Maria looks away from the shirtless burly man with red tattoos being astounded by Monica knowing what a Rubix cube is to the ship, intrigued by Carol’s attention to it. A green woman stood at the doorway, and Maria could see a man standing inside, unmoving.

“Is that Gamora and Peter?” Maria asks Carol. 

“She hasn't changed one bit,” Carol affirms as she takes note of her long-lost friend's wardrobe. “It's been years since I've seen her but she's just like how I remember. Gamora never really liked conventional space gear. I have to say it's refreshing seeing her wear something outside of the uncomfortable metal plated suits her father kept giving her.” The tiniest hint of a smile traces at the corners of her lips. They had spent six years apart. She had spent six years mourning the loss of another that, ironically, had been alive this whole time. “Now I know how it felt when I just showed up in your backyard one day. It's strange to think she's been alive all this time and I just never knew.” 

“Maybe you should invite them in. I’ll bring these four in first,” Maria suggests, gesturing to Rocket, Groot, Mantis and Drax. “It could give you closure.”

“Invite them in?” An uncertainty that was pretty unfamiliar entered Carol's voice. “I don't know much about any of them except for maybe Gamora. Even then, it's been six years since our last contact. I've got no idea if they're going to trash your house or turn things upside down. Are you sure you want to invite those four inside?” She turns to face the group bunched up around Monica and snorts a little. “That raccoon might prove to be a bit of a problem… the tattooed man too.” 

“It’ll all be fine, Carol. I’ll keep them in check,” Maria laughs, sending her a wink. “If you handle those two, I’ll handle the raccoon and Mr Tattoos.”

“I appreciate the concern, but with all due respect we barely know these four. Like I said you don't know what to expect from them. Maybe the raccoon might put a hole through one of your walls. We don't know that for sure.” It was the wink, maybe, that caused Carol's heart to skip a beat. At first, she wasn't sure what happened; her heart had simply stopped and stuttered. That was  _ new _ . She's undecided as to whether or not the feeling is likeable. 

Glancing over at Mantis and Groot, Carol just shrugs her shoulders. “Those two look like the easier of the bunch to coax inside. If you insist, though, I don't mind taking them on so long as you take care of the other two. They both seem like a handful.” 

Maria nods, joking, “I’ll bribe them with your pancakes.”

Peter barely realises that the air is escaping the ship when everyone has gotten off except him. There’s too little oxygen and not enough time to breathe. It felt like it took all his strength just to inhale once. He leans against the wall, reaching instinctively for his Walkman for comfort. When his hands grasp at nothing, the memory of it being crushed by Ego crashes into his mind. He’d never realised how loud his heartbeat was. Or how fast it was, for that matter. He doesn’t notice how he’d slid down the wall to the floor, hands gripping the sleeves of his shirt tightly. He tries to stand up, walk it off like he always has, but gravity challenges him and forces him to stay where he is. He feels so weak on Earth, which is just plain  _ ironic _ , because the gravity is so much lighter here. He felt like he was walking on air when they’d landed but now, it feels like air was walking all over him instead. He has no control.

He tries to draw in deep breaths, closes his eyes to focus. He can hear chirping noises, a faint tinkling sound. It all felt familiar yet so foreign. All these sounds and smells were memories of another life of Peter Quill’s. His senses slip away as he himself slips into some state of numbness. It felt like too much too quick. It was ridiculous, he’s been here before, some thirty years ago. He knows all of these. He knows the chirping noises come from birds, the tinkling sound comes from a windchime, but it felt so alien and… he does not belong. The music that plays on Earth does not play for him. The air he breathes is not the same air he’d been breathing in space. It was so different. He truly didn’t belong. Coming was a mistake. He couldn’t muster the will to leave the ship or it’ll make it all real.

His mother is not waiting for him outside the door. He is alone. 

“Peter?” Gamora's voice sounds sweet and smooth as she pokes her head in from the ship's entrance way. The truth was, she never left the ship, instead choosing to stand in the entryway and looking out at Carol. The idea of approaching her was too nerve-wracking. She couldn't do it. 

“If you couldn't do this, you could've just told me. Maybe coming to Earth was a bad idea. It seems like… it seems like I don't really think I can approach Carol. She's watching us… she's waiting for us to come out and yet I can't bring myself to do it. It's just all so overwhelming. If you want… if you want, we can just head back home.” ”

“I thought it would be no big deal, but I guess I was wrong,” Peter mumbles, hiding his face in his hands as he takes deep breaths. “I’m trying to move but I can’t do it. I look out the door and all I can think of is my mom.”

“It  _ is _ a big deal. That's why I asked you to consider your feelings before we got here, but I know how you are. You were probably so worried about me reconnecting with Carol that you put yourself last. How many times have I talked to you about this?” Gamora lets out an exasperated sigh before pulling her knees up next to Quill and plopping down beside him. If he wasn't ready to come out she would wait for him. 

“I know how scary it is for you to go out there. Maybe it's because I realize once you step out there you can't avoid the truth anymore.” One hand comes up to rest along his shoulder and smooth the ruffled fabric. “Going out there and stepping off of the ship means closure for you too. It means accepting that as soon as you step off that platform you won't be seeing her waiting at the end of it, not like how you would want to.” A dull ache tore through Gamora's heart at the dilemma. She truly felt for Peter in that moment because she knew what it was like to have to accept the inevitable. It was something she had to learn when surviving with Thanos.

“You’d think after thirty years, I wouldn’t be so affected by her death,” Peter says self-deprecatingly. “I’ll be fine, I’m just… I really miss my mom.”

“Time doesn't always heal all wounds, Peter. It just makes some more bearable than others. She was and still is your mother. You lost her at a young age. It’s not like you were an adult with most of your life already figured out. It's okay to miss your mother. It would probably be a little concerning if you didn't miss her so much,” Gamora gently states, her head moving into the crook of his neck. She allows her forehead to rest there and brush against the sensitive skin, her other hand reaching out to hold onto Quill's tightly. Every few seconds or so she would squeeze his hand again and again, a constant reminder that she was there. She would always be there.

“And no, I had to come back sooner or later. I hate it, but it’s true. Plus, Mantis really likes this place,” Peter replies, conversation with Gamora grounding him a little bit more. The air felt less tight. “Maybe… maybe my bad memories with Earth is holding back my powers…” Peter adds, “Either way, I wanted to see if my mom had anything left that I could take.”

“What did I just say? I know Mantis loves this place but if it’s not good for you, it's not selfish to put yourself first sometimes. Being the captain doesn't mean sacrificing your well-being for others at all costs. If coming to Earth often is too much for you, I'm sure that Mantis is more than capable of understanding. Out of all of us, she understands you the best.” She doesn't even seem to realize what happens next. The action is so fluid and graceful as her cheek rubs against his and her soft skin connects with the stubble along his cheeks. Her lips unintentionally move to brush sensually over his cheek, one arm slung around his neck and anchoring him close. “You're okay, Peter.”

A heat rushes through Peter’s cheeks at the sensation of Gamora’s lips against his skin. He squeezes her hand back, a smile forming on his face as he turns to look at her. 

“No unspoken thing, huh?” Peter asks, Gamora’s words and actions already bringing him down from his panic. 

“Oh, you  _ wish  _ there was an unspoken thing!” Gamora replies almost incredulously, though she's batting her eyelashes teasingly in Peter's direction. “That was just a little kiss on the cheek like this…” Her hands cups around the side of his face, her lips meeting his cheek again tenderly. This was a feeling she could get used to

He blushes a little more and laughs, shaking his head. His spare hand comes up to stroke Gamora’s hair gently in fondness. He felt lucky to have these people as his family, especially Gamora. He just hoped that one day, Thanos wouldn’t hold her back as much and she’ll let herself be happier.

“I guess… we should go. They’re probably wondering what’s taking us so long,” Peter says, willing himself to finally stand. Gamora stands as well, walking by Peter’s side as his shoes make contact with the soft grass. He takes a deep breath in — it smelt different somehow, from how the air smelled in space. Yet, it all felt so familiar. The house looked tiny compared to his large ship. He looks towards Gamora to spur himself on as he made his way over to Carol, who was standing at the porch. It seems like she was waiting for them to exit the ship. 

“Hey, you must be Carol,” Peter greets. He hates that his voice seems a little thick, but he’s sure he’ll be over it in a while. There was still an empty feeling in the planet, but he’ll just have to make do. “I’m Star-Lord. Or, you know, Peter Quill, I guess.” He uses his thumb to point to Gamora as he introduces, “And this is Gamora, but you already know that.”

“My name is Carol Danvers and I'm otherwise known as the residential protector for planet C-53. Nice to meet you, Peter Quill.” She extends one hand out almost mechanically to grab onto his, shaking it up and down a little too tightly. “So you're the guy who's supposed to be half-Celestial, huh?” She glances over at Gamora and finds that she isn't sure what to say. 

“Well, yeah,” Peter replies. He ducks his head slightly in awkwardness as the two women take each other in for the first time in six years. He walks past Carol to the back door of the house, saying, “I guess you two need to talk… I don’t think you want me to stay for that, do you?” He directs the question to Gamora.

“If Gamora needs me, I’ll be inside,” Peter decides to say when Gamora doesn’t answer. He gives her another thoughtful look before he goes in. Hopefully, Rocket and Drax weren’t tearing the house apart yet. He also hoped that Gamora and Carol would finally be able to talk, he felt strange at the thought of staying for that, like he was intruding on their privacy.

Gamora scuffs her boots against the soil, listening to the birds chirp all the while ignoring Carol’s lingering gaze. She wasn't even sure where to begin with holding a conversation. “You know, I haven't been off of the ship in at least a couple of months. It's refreshing to visit such a beautiful planet like C-53. I only wish I were able to travel here more often because maybe then you would've known I was still alive out there.” 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Carol smiles a little, looking up at the azure blue sky. It was truly a sight to behold. While Hala was futuristic, sleek and looks ten times more fancy than C-53 did, C-53 did have a certain charm to its simplicity. She couldn’t imagine why Peter would look so hesitant about coming. She loved visiting C-53. “I wish I did know you were alive. How’d you escape the Kree?”

“It's definitely unique, I'll say that much.” She reaches her hand up towards the pale blue sky. It was so interesting to her, and even more so the fluffy clouds that scuttled across the expanse of blue. They looked like sets of fluffy cotton balls, something Gamora knew Terrans used sometimes for cleaning purposes. They kept a spare set of them usually on the ship back when Groot was younger and still just a sapling in a pot. 

“I wish you knew I was alive too but getting a transmission from where I was to Earth, well...it wasn't easy. That's why it took me so long to reach out,” Gamora murmurs before slightly hesitating. Thinking about the Kree could be unsettling for Carol but she wouldn't have asked if she didn't want to know. “Escaping the Krew is probably one of the biggest stunts I've ever pulled off. It wasn't easy. I had to network a group of friends and create an alliance while in the Kyln. We broke out after devising a plan, and shortly after pursued by Ronan. He followed after us and then tried to claim the planet of Xandar. Oh and we had to deal with Thanos and his army tailing us. My sister actually blew my ship right out of the sky. I nearly died out there.”

Carol falls into some semblance of familiarity as Gamora speaks. There was something about her voice that felt strangely comforting. Though she was sure she didn’t love Gamora as much as she used to, it didn’t change that she had a warm presence with her. Gamora’s story sounded wild, and her eyebrows rise at the mention that she’d almost died.

“You almost died… wow. I can’t even imagine that. I wouldn’t have known,” Carol says quietly. Though she had been somewhat sure that Gamora hadn’t survived being under Thanos and the Kree’s rule, it bothered her that she would never have found out about her actual death. “How’d you survive?”

“I can't imagine having almost died either but then I know you understand what it's like. You've lived with enough close calls yourself in the time I've known you.” Gamora closes her eyes and sighs. “I know why I'm alive now. It's because of my friends that I made all those months ago. We stick together as a group...we're more than just a team. We're family. The only way to stop Ronan was to kill him, so we wielded the power of an infinity stone together that led to his destruction.” 

“Ronan is dead… Good job on that,” Carol says, managing a smile. He got what was coming, at least. She couldn’t be more glad that it was Gamora and her friends who did that. It was no easy feat, too.

“We don't deserve all the credit for that. Had it not been for me choosing to forsake Thanos and chase after the orb, maybe I wouldn't have almost put a whole planet at risk. It was the least I could do to make sure innocent Xandarians didn't have to pay the price.” She looks inside of the house and smiles a little.

“So, what's been up with you? How did you find yourself on this planet? I didn't know you had a family of your own here.” She gestures to Monica through the window, who is standing with Mantis, Groot and Drax playing a card game of Uno. “Who are they? Is that your wife and daughter?”

“Wife?” Carol almost chokes on her surprise at Gamora’s question. She hopes her face isn’t as red as she thinks it is from the mistake Gamora made as she asks, trying to play it cool, “What makes you think that?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just a feeling… call it a hunch maybe, but I think we both know it's something a little more than a friendship. With the way you're looking at her every couple of seconds, I thought maybe she was your love. She really is pretty, so I wouldn't be surprised if you had a crush on her. After all, you're Ver— I mean, you're Carol Danvers. I've never known you to not pursue something you wanted in your life.” She raises one eyebrow at Carol’s somewhat shocked response. 

“No, no. Maria isn’t my wife, she’s my best friend. Monica is her daughter,” Carol clarifies, shaking her head slightly.

“Oh, best friends! That's just as good, sometimes even better. You two definitely seen like you have a special connection. Also, thank you for being so welcoming to the team. I know that we're a handful to deal with but they're my family, you know?” Her eyes twinkle just a little with amusement. The red on Carol's cheeks was getting more noticeable by the minute but she didn't want to further embarrass her. 

“Ah…” Carol says slowly. “But either way, we’re not together. I found her when I escaped the Kree. She helped me to save the Skrulls and I’ve been staying here with her and her daughter for a few months now.” She hesitates a little, thinking about how a small part of her wishes the bit about Maria being her wife was true, but she pushes it back to ask, “What about you? Do you have a special someone?”

“Maybe I'm just reading the signals wrong. It has been a while since I've last been in a relationship. Not really the type of thing I have time to think about while being chased through outer space.” Gamora almost laughs at how ridiculous the idea of  _ her  _ having a special someone is. “Don't be silly, Carol. You know I haven't had anyone special like that in years. I think maybe the last I ever dated was you but after you I never really had time for a relationship.”

“But you and Quill seem to be pretty close,” she observes. “I saw you wait for him when he refused to leave the ship.” She’d been watching, of course. Even though she knew Gamora to an extent, the team had been suspicious to her. A tiny part of Carol had expected Peter and Gamora to emerge with a weapon and attack them. She feels silly for even thinking that the moment the young tree and the woman with antennae emerged. While she was waiting, partly readying herself for any possible attack, she’d seen Gamora turn back and re-enter the ship upon the realisation that Peter had yet to leave it. She saw how close they were, sitting together near the doorway of the ship.

“Me and Quill? Are you  _ serious _ ?” Gamora can't help but snort at the idea. Seriously her and Quill dating? That was absolutely silly. It was one thing to just be friends and another to start admitting feelings. “I was just waiting up for him because he needed some moral support. Returning to Earth is a pretty huge deal for him for reasons that I don't really want to tell you. If he feels comfortable with it maybe he can tell you later. There is nothing going on between me and Peter though. Nothing at all. We're just very close friends, you know?” 

“I see,” Carol says, nodding. “Well… I think Maria is waiting for us. I made pancakes, if you want to have any.” 

“Pancakes? I suppose that's some type of Terran food. I've never heard of them let alone had them in my life,” Gamora says with a roll of her shoulders. If it hadn't been for Quill she wouldn't even have the faintest idea of what pancakes looked like. “Peter likes to talk about them on the ship sometimes.” 

“You’ve  _ never _ had pancakes?” Carol asks, eyebrows flying up in disbelief. “You should try it, then. If the others haven’t already finished them all.”

“I've never been on Earth and while Peter knows some recipes for Terran food, we've hardly got time to cook. There's always something or some place out in the galaxy that needs us,” Gamora points out, raising one eyebrow at Carol. “I’ll try one, I guess. You went to all this trouble to make food, after all. I wouldn't want it going to waste.” 

The two women walk into the house, seeing Monica playing with Groot and Mantis. Maria watch Drax and Rocket carefully. After Carol’s warning, she’d decided to keep an eye on them. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to have any intentions of destroying her house. Drax is talking about how much he loves pancakes now while Rocket eats his own, probably not admitting that he also likes Earth food. Peter has a plate of his own, but the food is untouched.

Mantis pauses in her game with the lighting glow cube to wave over at Gamora, a bright smile on her face. “Gamora! Come see! This is my new friend Monica, and she's showing me how to play with a new Rubix cube! This one lights up! We played a game of cards before and… I wanted to know if it's okay to let Monica on our ship? She’s never been on a spacecraft like ours before and I want to show her my garden!”

Gamora just smiles and waves before nodding. “I don't see why not. Those plants are your pride and joy. Besides, she looks pretty excited at the idea of exploring an alien ship.” 

Rocket just snorts and tucks himself further into the meal, rolling his eyes grumpily. “Just keep her out of my stuff. I've got my weapons all over the place. The last thing I need is some Terran getting hold of a machine strong enough to blow up a moon.” 

Gamora notices the way that Peter keeps pushing his fork around the plate. Glancing between Carol and Maria, she smiles a little anxiously. “Do you mind if I excuse us for a bit? We’ll be back.”

Maria nods, eyeing Peter’s sullen mood, “Sure thing. I suppose I’ll go with Monica to make sure she keeps out of your friend’s… stuff.” Carol nods to indicate that she’s going with Maria to give them their own privacy.

Brushing her hand against the back of Peter's, Gamora leans down just enough to whisper in his ear, “Let’s take a walk.”

Peter sighs quietly, standing up, “Fine.”

Peter follows Gamora out of the house. Once again, the scenery was just so different to what he’d been used to. Space was advanced and Earth was so simple. He wondered how much has changed. Maria’s house didn’t seem like it was too different from how it was like for him when he was a kid. Though, he’d yet to see the city. But while he thought about the differences, a part of him didn’t want to see it.

She knows that Earth is nothing like the other places they've been to and it shows in Peter’s reactions. Maybe now wouldn't be the best time to have this conversation with him but the feeling was eating at her. Was it so obvious to everyone that even Carol could notice?

“What’d you and Carol talk about?” Peter asks before Gamora can say anything. He knew why she wanted to take a walk. He wasn’t exactly subtle with his pancakes. He just felt like everyone was tired of hearing about it or thought he was blowing his trauma about everything out of proportion. He’d rather focus on how happy Mantis is with all the different flowers, or Gamora reuniting with her old friend, or even Groot seeing other trees that don’t talk or move like he does.

“We just caught up on our lives kind of, you know, typical talk about what we've done the past six years or so without each other. I told her about us defeating Ronan since she already knew about your father. We talked about… some other things too.” She jams her hands into her pockets and finds herself looking at the ground as they wander through the trees. “Which I kind of wanted to talk to you about something, but um…” 

“That’s nice, I guess,” Peter replies. He was glad, at least, that Gamora got to make sure Carol was alive and well. It was the least Peter could do for her after what happened to Nebula. “What’d you want to talk about?”

Her heart was hammering in her ears. Maybe she could take back what she just said, prolonging or avoiding the inevitable. 

“Gamora? You okay?” Peter asks, leaning forward slightly to look at her in concern. “You seem a little anxious. Whatever you’re gonna tell me can’t be  _ that _ bad.”

“I'm fine.” Gamora didn't know why she thought now was a good time to do this. It was so stupid and  _ ridiculous _ . What business did she have trying to make sense out of her emotions anyways? She was just wasting his time. “It's not that it's  _ bad _ , I'm just…. I’m a little nervous to tell you.”

“Listen, you can tell me anything,” Peter says, as surely as his voice can do at the moment. He and Gamora stop walking when they reach the fences outside Maria’s house. He turns to her, placing his hands on her shoulders like they’ll keep her on the ground, “What is it? Is it bad? I knew we shouldn’t have come here.”

“It's nothing bad! Nothing like that at all. It's not…” She closes her eyes and feels her pulse ricocheting in her brain. It's the first time she's ever felt such a heavy thumping in her life and it terrifies her. “Look, about earlier… I… you know how we always sort of joke around about having an unspoken thing, right?” Her body felt like it was experiencing hot and cold flashes all at once. If she didn't get it out there  _ now _ , she was afraid she would have to live with it and take it to the grave.

“I mean,  _ I _ wasn’t joking, but yeah. Why?” Peter asks, now serious. He’d never seen Gamora look so tense about something that wasn’t Thanos. He’s more than welcome to talking about this instead of anything else, though. It’s been something he’d wanted to discuss with Gamora for a long while now.

“You weren't joking? You always seemed so playful whenever you mentioned it… I'm sorry if I misinterpreted things. You just never seemed to be that bothered by it so I thought it was just playful.” Sweat gathers around her temples and Gamora feels a stiff coldness blowing through her heart. Confessing feelings was proving to be far more difficult than she initially planned. 

“Peter, I don't really know how to tell you this. It's nothing bad but it's nothing good… but it's nothing bad…” She presses her fingers into her eyes and starts pacing back and forth. “Look, I don't even know how this happened but I think maybe it’s not exactly just a joke anymore.” 

Peter pauses, taking in Gamora’s words. Is she saying what he thinks she’s saying? He’d been trying to hint at it for so long and he was sure he’d been anything but subtle about his liking to her. He asks slowly, “So… you’re saying that there’s a  _ serious _ unspoken thing instead of a  _ joke _ unspoken thing?”

The roof of her mouth runs dry at Peter's question. All he was looking for was confirmation of what she was saying. Biting down on one of her fingernails, she looks over at Peter and squirms. Nerves feel like they are eating away through her skin. “I… I guess that's what I'm saying. I don't even know what I'm saying.” 

Peter smiles, mumbling to ease his own nerves about the topic at hand, “Man, this conversation would’ve been a whole lot more romantic if we were in space instead.” He says to Gamora, “Well, what do you wanna do about our now-spoken thing?”

“That's just the thing, Peter. I'm not sure what to do about it.” She bites down hard on her lip, eyes wandering through aimlessly halls of thoughts. “I never really considered the potential for us up until the events with Ego. Hell, I didn't even consider it while that was happening. When I realized Rocket was consciously leaving without you… I don't know what came over me. I couldn't leave you out there. I used the excuse about us being family for not leaving you behind. It's so much more than that. You're… you're the person I think about the most often.” 

Peter listens patiently, his hands finding Gamora’s in comfort. He replies, “Well, if it makes you feel any better about this… Ever since my mom died, and then losing Milano, I didn’t think I could love anyone ever again, romantic or not. Then you and the others came into my life, became my family. And, you know, cheesy as it sounds, you kind of taught me how to love again.”

His hands catching onto hers was the first thing Gamora noticed. Sometimes it just felt like their hands were made to hold one another's and for a fleeting moment she wonders if Peter feels the same. “I don't know if anything can make me feel better about this. This is scary for me, Peter. I don't typically let myself get heavily invested in emotions. When my parents were destroyed by Thanos, I vowed that I would never love again. I saw no point to doing it and so maybe I lost myself in the process. Oh, and there is absolutely no way I taught you how to love again. The power to love was already there. You just weren't ready to use it yet.” 

“I like you more than anything, Gamora,” Peter says sincerely, taking a step closer to her. “Everything you’ve done for me, especially with this trip, it really means a lot. It’s been stressful, it  _ still _ is, but you being here makes me feel a lot better.”

“I… I like you a lot too, Peter,” Gamora takes a deep breath as he glides closer. “This trip is just one of many things the both of us needed to face at one point or another. Better to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. I'm glad I can help make you feel better. Please know that you make me feel better too.”

“But if you don’t wanna do anything about it right now, I totally get it,” Peter replies. “Especially with everything that’s happened recently. We’ve got all the time in the world. This spoken thing isn’t going anywhere, right?”

A hand comes up to gently caress Gamora’s cheek, every inch of adoration channeled to her with every touch. The soft smile on his face says it all. Every bit of his heart belongs to her.

His words are foggy and hazy thoughts scrolling through her mind. All of the months and short time spent together were coming together to form one thought. “You talk too much, Quill. It's time to let go of that for a minute,” Gamora breathes as she stretches up to kiss his cheek. Slowly, but surely, her lips move over towards his forehead and then finally his lips.

Peter returns the kiss wholeheartedly, his hands going up Gamora’s arms to her cheeks. His heart goes into overdrive from a kiss long-awaited. It felt as magical as Peter would have thought it to be. Gamora was an amazing kisser, and Peter was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. Kissing her, it was like the world had melted away and they were back among the stars.

When they pull away, Peter laughs a little breathlessly. “I love you.”

“Just… just one thing, Peter. I'm not ready to tell the rest of the team about us yet. We're just trying this out. I've never had a proper relationship before outside of Carol, so I don’t have much experience with dating.” It was terrifying to have to ask such a thing. For months, Peter had remained content to sneak around and resorting to little moments here and there with her. Now that he finally had her heart in the palms of his hands, she still couldn't adjust to the idea of their status change. 

“Anything you want,” Peter replies. “I know this is hard for you.”

“But maybe we should go back to the others now. They’ll be wondering where we went,” Peter says, glancing back to the ship. Drax had Monica on his shoulders while Mantis laughed. Groot was sitting in Monica’s hands, just as gleeful as her. Rocket stood at the ship’s doorway like he was keeping them from coming back inside. Carol and Maria watched Monica play with them fondly.

“I think they'll be okay. We can start heading back now but they don't really need us. Look at them,” Gamora nods over towards the ship. Drax seemed to be relatively peaceful which was quite shocking for the mysterious tattooed space man. His eyes were closed as he hums a soft tune, one that is entirely out of sync and without rhythm. It didn't matter to Monica though. Her eyes were shining bright with wonder, arms wrapping around his neck to keep herself anchored. “You can tell he was a family man at one point. I wonder if he got the chance to hold his daughter like that.”

“Knowing how much he loved her, I’m sure he took every chance he got,” Peter says, a small smile forming. Though the man may be a little dense at times, it was clear that he loved his family, whether they were talking about the Guardians or Ovette and Kamaria.

Rocket was carefully posted by the ship's entrance. A pile of supplies were sprawled out in front of him as he began working on another piece of aerospace technology. “Rocket is busy in his element. He's keeping guard of the ship to make sure the girl doesn’t enter unattended. The last thing we need is a malfunction on our ship because of an accident on Earth. I really think we've got nothing to worry about.”

Mantis kept twitching her antennae back and forth, using them to tap and poke at Drax's head while laughing. Drax could never seem to figure out it was her touching his head so the whole spectacle was quite amusing to watch. “Mantis has everything under control, I think. Out of all of us on the ship right now, she's by far the strongest. I trust that she can help keep the rest of the team in order.”

Carol kept a close eye on Monica from the porch. Granted, Gamora's friends from space certainly added their own flair to things. She's come to understand it was their way of showing respect and admiration. Since the arrival of the Guardians, however, she’s started to feel sensations long forgotten. Sidling a glance over at Maria, a faint smile floats across her features. “So, what do you think of them? My friends, I mean. I just want to know what your opinion is.” Carol's skin was pale as a sheet and her lips were running dry.

“I think they’re fun,” Maria laughs. “Monica likes them and they haven’t destroyed my house yet, so that’s great.” She turns to Carol, eyebrows furrowing in concern, “You look a little pale, Carol. You feeling okay? What’s wrong?”

“They are pretty fun. Definitely not how I expected them to be. Plus, a bonus, arguably not a huge bonus, but they haven't destroyed your home yet.” There is a teasing tone that enters Carol's voice but her eyes seemed hazy and far away. “I'm glad Monica really loves them. Also… I'm okay. What are you worrying for? I'm probably just a little tired. You know how busy things get around here. Don't worry about me. Seriously. Whatever it is, I'll be okay. I feel fine.”

“If you say so…” Maria says, unsure. “If you feel unwell, you tell me immediately. I care about you.”

“Hey, if we’re keeping this a secret, maybe you could do me a favour,” Peter says while they’re walking back to the others. “I wanna go back to Missouri to check if my mom had a spare Walkman or anything else. And possibly… possibly go visit her grave, maybe mine too,” Peter answers. He already looks anxious at the idea of it, and his hand squeezes Gamora out of instinct.

Gamora knew what he was going to ask and, almost at once, had a prepared reply. “You know I'm with you through it all, Quill. We've saved the galaxy twice together with the help of our friends. If you need my support, I'm here. I’m not going anywhere,” She breathes as she gently squeezes his hand back. Pausing she looks over at Peter and finds that she is overwhelmed. “I just wanted you to know I love you too. I'm sorry I didn't say it back at first. I just needed to be sure.”

Peter gives her a genuine smile, it radiated nothing but love and joy. He nods, saying, “Thanks. I’ll go ask Rambeau if she knows the way to Missouri. Maybe she’ll take us there. I don’t really have money for a cab… Units don’t work here.” 

“What do they use for currency, then?” Gamora asks, curious.

Peter rolls his eyes, “Paper and metal pieces. After using units for so long, money just seems so useless to carry around.”

“Rambeau, I wanted to ask you something,” Peter calls out, walking over with Gamora.

Maria raises an eyebrow — Peter already looks better than when he first walked into her house. She asks, “What do you need?” 

“Do you know how to get to Missouri?” Peter asks, looking a little sheepish about having to ask in the first place. “This isn’t Missouri, and I don’t know how to get back there from wherever the hell this is. And… I don’t have money.” 

“I could bring you. I’d rather not have a cab driver scared shitless at the sight of an alien,” Maria offers. “I’m sure Carol would be willing to watch over your friends and my daughter in the meantime. Is that okay, Care? If it’s not, I can just send them in a cab.”

Carol looks between Maria and Peter. A selfish part of her  _ wants  _ to keep Maria at home but she was probably right. A lot of people on C-53 had little to no experience with aliens unless it came down to S.H.I.E.L.D. “Yeah, that's okay. It's probably a better idea. When I first landed on Earth, nobody had any idea what a Skrull was. They tried to arrest me. I'd rather not hear a story about two ragtag team members almost being arrested and blasting some human to avoid it. Plus, they've both had experience in intergalactic jail before so don't chance it. Go on. I'll be fine,” Carol smiles reassuringly, ignoring the discomforting feeling building up in the pit of her stomach. 

“Okay, you two. Let’s go, then,” Maria says, going back into the house to get her car keys.

Gamora turns to Carol and walks over to her, smiling a little. “Thank you for letting us borrow your friend’s help. It'll only be for a couple of days. Peter knows exactly where he is headed and what he wants to do. I promise, no more than two or three days at the most. I know you don't feel comfortable with your friend leaving.” 

Carol looks at Gamora and shrugs her shoulders before snorting. “What is with everyone thinking I'm not fine? It's okay. You're going on a small trip. I'll be okay and she will too. Just do me one favor and make sure she actually finds a way to enjoy the trip to Missouri as well. She's starting to worry about me and I don't like it.” 

Gamora glances back over at Peter before nodding. She didn't want to say anything but Carol looked noticeably drained. Maybe she was just… tired? “Of course. It won’t be a problem. Don't worry. Your girlfr-, I mean your best friend will be safe with us…” She giggles and winks over at Carol, who despite everything still manages to roll her eyes and smile.

When Maria comes back out with her car keys, she presses a kiss to Carol’s temple, saying, “You know my number, so call me if anything’s up. I’ll come back as soon as possible.”

The kiss was enough for Carol to feel like she was seeing stars explode. It was a small gesture of affection but packed such a huge punch. Maria wasn't this openly affectionate towards anyone that wasn't Carol or Monica. The occasional kisses to her forehead always made Carol wonder. Did Maria long for the same things she did sometimes? To have and hold one another in ways that were more than just two best friends? Either way, now wasn't the time for such thoughts. “You know I'll always call you if I ever need anything.” She offers Maria a smile but it feels weak. 

Maria gives Carol a hug before she walks off to say goodbye to Monica. Monica is understanding as always — in fact, she even says that Maria is setting a good example for her by helping strangers. Maria can’t help but laugh, giving Monica a kiss to her cheek and a hug. She spares Carol a final glance; a part of her feels hesitant about leaving Carol alone. She knows Carol can take care of herself, Monica and all the aliens in their yard, but she can’t help the feeling that something’s wrong.

“You okay?” Peter asks when Maria walks up to the car, where Peter and Gamora are waiting.

“I’m okay, just a little worried about Carol,” Maria replies, trying not to seem bothered. “She seem off to you?” The question seems to be more directed to Gamora than Peter, likely because she knew Carol better than Peter did.

“Carol is always a little off, it's a part of who she is,” Gamora points out and smiles, but she sees it isn't doing much to reassure Maria. “Seriously I'm sure she's fine. Carol isn't the type to…” Gamora realizes that Carol  _ is  _ the type to disregard herself for the safety of others, so she tries another approach. “You’re her best friend, right? I'm sure if she really needs you she'll contact you. It's only for a few days. Carol is a strong woman.” 

“You’re right,” Maria shakes her head, getting into the driver’s seat. “Well, get in. We’re going to Missouri.”

Carol watches the car get smaller as it gets further and further from the house. She watches until the vehicle is nothing but dust in the wind.

“Do you miss Mommy?” Monica asks, coming up to sit by Carol at the porch. The glowing Rubix cube is in her hands, almost solved but not quite. Mantis is observing some plants she’d found in a random bush, Drax is just taking in the sun, and Groot simply sits in the quiet, finally a little worn out from playing earlier on. Rocket is nowhere to be seen, likely in the ship working on something.

“Of course I miss her. I'm sure you do too. She just left though… so I know she'll be back. It's only for a few days, anyways. Do you miss your Mommy?” Monica nods, looking back down at her cube. Carol grins a little at Monica's antics. No matter what, the girl always found a way to make Carol smile. “I always told your mother you were too smart for regular puzzles. The Rubix cube seems much more fitting, and somehow you've already almost figured out all of the color combinations. It’s a cute gift they brought for you, isn’t it?” Even now, Carol knew she wasn't being totally honest with herself. Her heart started to ache with a dull throb the moment Maria's car backed out of the driveway.

“I love it!” Monica giggles, raising the Rubix cube to her face, watching it glow like a rainbow. “I’m sure Mommy will be home soon,” Monica smiles, leaning against Carol adorably. She passes the Rubix cube to her, saying, “Maybe this will take your mind off Mommy for a while.”

“You're right, kid. You really are pretty smart,” Carol smiles a little and rests her chin atop of Monica's head. “Thank you for offering me the cube, but it's your toy. Go ahead and play with it.” That wasn't the real reason Carol turned down the offer. The wood by her side was starting to bend from heat and her hands were warm with the orange glow of her powers. It felt different this time. Trying to steady and ground herself did nothing. The glow still radiated from her hands, and almost seemed to burn her if she stifled it. 

Monica didn’t notice though, too taken in by the glowing cube. Carol decides to sit, Monica lying on her lap fiddling with her new toy, as she watches the Guardians lay around on the spacious field.

* * *

The trip to Missouri itself was pretty peaceful. Gamora observed the rest of the world passing by on the ground instead of in the sky. It was a completely different experience to watch the world pass by in a car. “Your home planet doesn't look so bad, Peter. I don't know why so many hate it. It’s pretty.” 

“It isn’t, not to me,” Peter replies almost instantly. “But if you think so, then that’s cool.”

Maria pulls up in the neighbourhood that Peter grew up in. She’d parked a couple blocks down from where Peter used to live. Maria asks, turning around to check in with Gamora and Peter, “Is this it?”

“Yup,” Peter replies, slightly apprehensively. His hand catches onto the car door handle and freezes in place for a moment before Peter forces it to move. The door swings open and Peter takes his first step in Missouri. 

Maria asks Gamora, “Do you want to stay in the car while Quill checks his home out or go with him, since you’re an alien and most humans have never seen people like you before? I’m fine going with him on your behalf or staying here with you.”

“I think… I think this is something Quill needs to do alone. I’m here for him and he knows it. If he needs me, he can always come back to the car. He looks more human than I do, so I'm okay with sitting in the car. Besides, I kind of want to talk to you about something.” 

Peter walks up alone to the front porch of what used to be his home. He wasn’t sure if the residents had already moved, but if they had, at least Peter could get their new address. He considers simply breaking in to avoid all contact with the current residents, but decided that nobody needed him to have a criminal record on Earth. 

So he simply presses the doorbell. He can hear the sound ring out through the house, followed by an old man calling out, “Coming!” Peter waits patiently for someone to get the door. He shifts uncomfortably in his red jacket, trying to ready himself for whoever was coming. When the door opens, the old man stares at him for a moment before mumbling, “I’m sorry, you just remind me of someone. May I help you?” A small fragment of Peter recalls the voice, but he can no longer place the identity of it.

“I’m Peter Quill… I came to get anything my Mom might have left behind. If her stuff got moved somewhere else, if you could give me an address, I’ll be glad to be on my way,” Peter says, letting out a breath. The man stares at him, mouth falling open in shock as the book in his hand drops to the floor. Peter raises an eyebrow, eyeing the book for a moment before asking, “Are you okay, sir?”

“Peter… It’s you, it’s really you,” the man breathes, reaching out tentatively like if he touches Peter, he’ll dissipate into thin air. Peter takes a step away, a little hesitant about the man he doesn’t know.

“I… It’s been a really, really long time. I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” Peter mumbles, dare he say, half-heartedly. He was wracking his brain to remember who the man was, but he just couldn’t recall.

“You’re my grandson… I always knew you were alright,” the man whispers, pulling Peter into a hug. “My God, how you have grown.” 

Peter doesn’t return the hug, a little taken by surprise, but he awkwardly pats the man on his back, saying, “Yeah, it’s been around thirty years. Um, but do you have anything that was my mom’s?”

“I have a few mixtapes of hers she left for you but you never got and a couple other things,” Grandpa says, ushering Peter into the house. “Come in and I’ll get them for you. Where have you been all this time?”

Peter chooses the easier answer, “I ran away.” It was true, he ran away from the hospital room. Peter thought it was easier to omit the part where he was kidnapped and never made an effort to return. He didn’t feel like talking about his life after Meredith’s death.

Grandpa leaves Peter in the living room to get Meredith’s old belongings and Peter looks around, taking in the house. It’s a little different from what he remembered, but he expected it. It’s asking a bit much to have the house remain the same for thirty years. Nobody else was around, as far as Peter could tell — good, at least he didn’t have to talk to too many people. Maybe Grandpa could tell Peter where his mom was.

When Grandpa returns, he has a box in his arms. “She had tapes that she wanted me to give you on your birthdays and milestones. You know, graduation, wedding, work… She made something for everything. She was ready for every part of your life.” He places the box down on the coffee table and Peter goes through the tapes — ‘Birthday Boy Mix’, ‘Brainiac’, ‘Love Wins Mix’ — which Peter thinks was made in case he ever came out as gay or something, which he appreciated. She was ready for his entire life. He blinks away tears as he goes through the tapes.

Grandpa takes out a Walkman; it looks just like the one Ego crushed. He says, “Meredith had an extra. You used to break a lot of things as a kid, so she wanted to get you a spare in case you ever broke the original.” Peter takes the Walkman, runs a finger over the device, and Grandpa pulls out a few photographs, “She kept these too. I wanted to give them to you when we went home from the hospital, but you… you left and never came back.”

Peter takes the photos and at the sight of Meredith, he begins to cry. He holds the photo close to his chest as he sobs his heart out. He can feel Grandpa’s hand rubbing his back in comfort, but nothing feels better than seeing his mother’s face somewhere that isn’t his memory.

“I’m sorry I ran,” Peter chokes out. It felt more like he was apologising to Meredith than his Grandpa.

“I get it, kiddo. I would have ran too. It’s scary to see your own mom like that,” Grandpa says understandingly.

Peter adds, this time directed to his grandfather and not Meredith, “I’m sorry I didn’t come back. It was too painful.”

“Why the change of heart, son?” Grandpa asks. 

“I met my dad,” he replies. He looks down at the photo of his five-year-old self with Meredith and says, “Mom deserved so much better than him. He was nothing like she described him to be. The way she talked about him, I thought he was gonna be an angel but he felt like a demon. He crushed my Walkman and…” He knows if he told him Ego gave Meredith cancer, he won’t be believed, so he changes his words. “I hate him so much.”

Grandpa sighs, putting an arm around Peter’s shoulders, “Sometimes, it is what it is… What matters if that he isn’t here now, right? And you’re safe.” Peter doesn’t reply and Grandpa pulls out a thin stack of papers, explaining, “She started writing these when she was diagnosed. She knew she wasn’t going to be around as long as she wanted to be, but she wanted to be there in spirit. She made you mixtapes, but she also wrote letters.”

Peter takes one of them, where the cover is a drawing of a star and a cartoon king; Star-Lord, her special nickname for him. He flips it open to read it.

_ My lovely Star-Lord, _

_ You’re so big now! Eighteen is a long way to come and you made it! I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here. I hope you know I love you more than anything. _

_ You know, I don’t need to be here to know that you’re going to kick ass out there! Before you were even born, I knew you were going to do some good things for this world. You were going to touch the stars, I just knew it. _

_ You can do anything you want to do, Peter. You love whoever you want to love and you do whatever you want to do. I love you no matter what. You’re going to do amazing, you already are! Never let anybody stop you. _

_ Happy birthday, Peter. I love you!  _

_ Love, _

_ Mom _

_ P.S. I hope you like the mixtape I made you! I named it Birthday Boy Mix <3 _

Peter starts crying again; it seems like every single thing that makes him feel like Meredith was there with him made him cry. This time, Grandpa doesn’t make a move to comfort him, simply letting Peter sob as he reads the words over and over again. His thumb gently runs over the writing; a blue ballpoint pen, the paper yellowing slightly at the corners. She loved him no matter what.

Grandpa asks, an afterthought to Peter’s heart-wrenching reactions to Meredith’s belongings, “Have you been alone all this time?”

“I have friends, met a couple people… I’m not alone, but...” Peter says. “But I guess, in a way, I still feel lonely. Where I went, people aren’t like me.”

“At least you’re home now. I kept your room clean, I always held out hope that you’d come home some day,” Grandpa says, standing as if ready to show him to his room. 

Peter quickly says, “Oh, I’m… I’m not staying. I just came to get my mom’s stuff. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

To say Grandpa looks disappointed and confused would be an understatement. “Why?”

“Earth isn’t my place,” he says. “I can’t stay here. But if you could tell me where my Mom is, that’ll be nice.”

Grandpa gives him a mournful look, but he reaches for a pen and note paper to write down the address for him. He asks, “What did you mean Earth isn’t for you?”

“I just don’t belong here. You know, the kids never liked me. I didn’t have any friends. My mom died. Earth isn’t where I’m supposed to be,” Peter says, an apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry I’m not staying. The thought alone is too hard to entertain.”

Grandpa nods, passing him the paper and the box, items placed back inside, “I get it. I wish you would stay, but if you think this is best for you, then you do it. Never let anyone stop you, Pete.” Peter gives him a smile, his first sincere one since he’d stepped into the house. Grandpa adds, a hint of guilt in his voice, “We made you a grave too, we thought you died after you didn’t come back for a year. Had a funeral and everything.”

“Oh.” Peter doesn’t know what else to say to that. He’d expected that he would have a grave with how long he’d been gone, but hearing that it actually exists was surreal. 

“I can take you to Meredith, if you want,” Grandpa offers.

Peter replies, possibly a bit apologetic, “No, it’s okay. I have a ride. Thanks, though.”

Grandpa asks as Peter begins gathering up Meredith’s things into the box, “Do you have a phone number for me to call you by? Since you’re leaving… I would like to keep in contact.”

Peter replies, “I… I’m sorry, no. I, uh, I don’t really have a phone. Haven’t had one since I left.”

“Where did you go that you don’t even have a phone?” Grandpa asks, mystified, and quite possibly even  _ horrified _ , by the amount of holes in Peter’s history he couldn’t fill. The last time he’d seen Peter, he had been barely eight years old, and now he’s sitting here, on his way to forty? Over thirty years of history he knew nothing about. He wanted to ask what he’d been doing in detail, if he’d met anyone, he wanted to know everything to make up for lost time. But Peter clearly had places to go and things to do. Grandpa knew better than to keep Peter behind. When that boy wanted to do something, he never gave up on it. After all, this was the same boy who got beat up for saving a frog. If anyone would disappear for thirty years and do good things in that time, he didn’t doubt that Peter would be that person.

Peter steps out of the house, box and note in his hands, and replies, “The stars, I guess.” He made it to the stars, like his mother said he would. She must be so proud.

He walks back down the blocks, back to Maria’s car, without waiting for a response from Grandpa, but he’s sure the man is waving farewell. Maybe Peter will come back again, though the likelihood seems small. He wonders if his grandfather witnessed Ego’s expansion and thought about him. He brushes the thought away, his mother’s grave a priority.

While Peter was inside of the house, Gamora sat in silence with Maria. Several beats passed before she finally mustered the courage to speak. “I wanted to ask you how you're doing, first of all. You seemed really shaken up when we left the house. I know you're worried about Carol but I also know she's going to be okay. She's stronger than any of us give her credit for, all except for you. She told me you knew even before she could shoot fire out of her hands that she was powerful.”

Maria looks over at Gamora and smiles. “I'm fine, thanks for asking. I know you're right about Carol. I just can't help but worry about her, you know? I spent six years thinking that she died in a mission that was so secretive it never got properly addressed. Now that she's finally back and this time not just for a few days, well…” She shrugs her shoulders and trails off. It was so much easier to just write it off as something simple. Way easier than trying to consider that maybe she had feelings for the beautiful woman who selflessly put everyone else first.

“Speaking of that, you two have an incredibly interesting bond. Are you both just best friends or looking for something more? I mean, I'm not surprised if you aren't. I'm more or less just wondering. You know Carol better than I do, well, at least the Earth version of her. This is who she really is… and I have to say I'm so thankful that she has a friend like you to confide in.” Gamora is staring at her questioning while raising an eyebrow.

“Carol and I are just friends. I've helped her since she was young. We were inseparable in our youth. She never really did have a good relationship with her parents or family, so it's almost as though I became her new family. I feel responsible for her. Maybe I'll tell you more about her life pre-Kree warrior soldier some other time. Right now, all I can do is wonder if my best friend is safe.” 

“I’m back,” Peter announces a little unnecessarily. He places the box between him and Gamora as he enters Maria’s car.


	5. Chapter 5

Monica peers quietly into Carol’s room. She’d hears Carol coughing up her lungs and was beginning to get concerned. She’d never seen Carol sick before and this was a first.

Carol did her best over the next day to rest up and feel better. The perks to having photon blast abilities? She was able to make herself warm drinks and soup. The cons? Her powers kept backfiring on her, either shorting out or sparking and shocking her skin. It didn't make any sense. Prior to the arrival of the Guardians, Carol had been okay at keeping her powers under control but she knew it wasn't their fault. The power shortage or, rather, the lack of control, had to stem from something else. Either way, it didn't make healing any easier.

She was never sick before, not like this. There’s a first time for everything. Carol only wished that the illness came while Maria was here. Not being sure of its cause or source certainly didn't help matters. If anything, she was lucky that the Guardians came to visit Earth after all. Worst coming to absolute worst, she knows she can always visit a local doctor for a diagnosis. The Guardians didn't seem to mind taking up the helm and caring for Monica on their first day here. They weren't the model idea of a family but they tried their best. In the end, the effort is what matters most.

The last time she checked on Monica had been to tuck her into bed the night before. Since returning from her previous space adventure, Monica hasn’t changed at all. She still asked to be read stories at night or be told some based on the Skrulls. Sometimes, she even asked about the little Skrull friend she made. Carol was happy to share stories and recount tall tales for Monica. There were no words to express the feelings in her heart at Monica's eyes or the way they lit up with excitement. That's what Carol loved so much about Monica. No matter how many times she heard it, the same story never bored the child. Life is nothing but an endless adventure for her.

Her fists ball up the fabric of the sheets tightly. It feels like a cloud of exhaustion is hanging over her head and pulling down on her eyes. Everything about the room felt so distant, even the fuzzy sounding voice of Monica as she entered the room. Wait. Monica was  _ in  _ the room?

“Auntie Carol? Are you sick?” Monica asks, treading lightly across the hardwood floors to Carol’s bed. It was early, none of the Guardians were awake. If they were, they hadn’t gotten off the ship yet. They weren’t taking up residence in Maria’s house, opting instead to live on the ship.

“Sick?” Carol asks, propping herself up by her elbows against the pillow and smiling at her. “I'm okay. I just needed to get a bit of rest, is all.” Her words wouldn't seem very convincing. She was sure that last night she started running a fever. Her eyes seemed droopy and hollow. Then again it wasn't really the way she generally looked that was so alarming; it was her  _ hands _ .

“You’re going to burn the blanket,” Monica points out worriedly. Carol’s hands gripped the blanket tightly, hands glowing slightly as a bit of smoke began to form. 

“No, I won't,” Carol promises quietly. She knows that Monica is right to be concerned, to be worried about this. Even she was starting to get worried about this. “I can turn them off. The blanket won't burn.” Her voice doesn't carry the confidence it usually has. It sounds unsteady, wavering and some might say even confused. It was a bit silly to think she would never take ill but Carol had a feeling this was all something much bigger. Being sick on top of it was just an added bonus.

Still smiling over at Monica, Carol takes a deep breath and gathers her strength. It's not much but it’s better than nothing. Closing her eyes, she focuses in on her body's core. Back when she was still a part of the Kree army, they had given her a chip in the side of her neck to help control her powers. She didn't need that chip now but a part of her wished it was that simple. If she didn't come up with a solution soon she really might burn the blanket. 

Trying to shove her powers down was proving ineffective. The one time she thought she was making progress, the glow from her hands sparked and fizzled back into her eyes. It  _ hurt  _ to try stopping them. Her skin felt too warm to the touch everywhere and the heat was spreading through her head. “I can do this, I can stop them. I can stop it before it gets to be too much.” She was just barely conscious of the fact that Monica was standing in the room wide-eyed. It must be terrifying to see her writhing in pain.

“I think I should call Mommy,” Monica says, unsure about leaving Carol as she is. She’d never seen Carol like this before. “I’ll get you water.” The young girl runs off to get Carol a glass of water.

“No, no. Don't call your mother,” Carol’s voice is shaky and uncertain. “I don't want to bother her. I don't want to distract her. She’s got something important she needs to do—” The rest of her words got caught in her throat. They were shut out by an overpowering cry. The pain was  _ so  _ intense that Carol could feel the heat of tears on her cheeks. Throwing her head back against the pillow, her hands set off a photon blast. It ricocheted across the room and didn’t burn through the blanket but it did break a statue. She was thankful for one thing: Monica not being there in the way of the blast.

When Monica returns, there’s a mug with the letter ‘C’ on it in one hand, a phone in the other. The mug had been a present from Maria a month back. She gives Carol the mug of cold water while she starts keying in Maria’s number, eyeing the destroyed statue.

Her fingers can barely wrap loosely around the mug's handle. There is large droplets of sweat coating her temples as she tries drinking the cool liquid. The smell of burning was fresh from the wood of the destroyed statue and Carol's eyes were bloodshot. “Don't. Don't call your mother…” She's reaching for Monica, or maybe she's reaching for the phone. Either way, the world begins to spin and warp into a rainbow of colors before everything fades to darkness.

Monica decides that Maria wouldn’t come home in time to help Carol, and runs outside to the closest adults who can help her — the Guardians. She bangs on the doorway of their ship, “Mantis! Rocky! Drax! Groot! Auntie Carol is sick, please help!”

Rocket opens the door, machine gun in hand, “What is it?” A machine gun wasn’t necessary, but Monica is a little glad that Rocket was ready for anything, even when it was that early in the morning.

“She’s burning up… literally,” Monica answers, worried. Rocket peers over her to the house, trying to see if he can spot anything wrong; maybe a hole in the roof, smoke exiting the windows, anything. 

“I can help,” Mantis offers, coming up behind Rocket. Monica nods, taking Mantis’ hand to pull her over to the house. Drax, Rocket and Groot come over to follow them, curious to see what’s wrong with Carol. Monica leads them to Carol’s bedroom, worry crossing her face on multiple levels.

Before even entering the room, Mantis can already sense the discomfort growing stronger as they wandered down the hallway. The closer they got to Carol's room, the more the feeling swelled until it was like a balloon ready to pop. Taking a deep breath, Mantis ducks her head inside of the room, her antennae twitching in the direction of Carol. For a moment, all that she could do is stand there in the doorway, jaw slack in shock.

Even Drax and Rocket look dumbfounded. Groot looks like he doesn’t really understand what he’s seeing — he still didn’t know much about Carol — but he seems confused at how different Carol looks.

Carol looked  _ awful _ . She wasn't sure what a possible explanation could be. It was terrifying how quickly her health deteriorated in just a little over a day. “That's her?” She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. There was no mistaking the soft blonde curls, or the slightly worn out Nine Inch Nails t-shirt. That is definitely Carol.

“When did this happen?” Mantis asks slowly, entering the room with careful stealth. At the moment, it seemed that Carol was asleep or at least in a state of unconsciousness. Now would be the optimal time to get a closer look. 

“I found her this morning, her hands were glowing and she was burning up the blanket,” Monica replies, pointing to the slightly charred ends of the blanket. She then directs her finger towards the exploded statue, “She also blasted that.”

“I thought she didn't get sick? At least, not like this. Is this the first time?”

“Yeah,” Monica answers, worry only growing as she sees the uncertainty in the Guardians’ faces, especially Mantis’. Over the past day of getting to know the Guardians, Mantis had become her favourite and most trusted among all of them, especially with her gentleness and kind aura. Now, the peaceful energy was replaced with concern. “She’s always healthy. I’ve never seen Auntie Carol like this.”

Inching over towards the bed, Mantis could see the little droplets of sweat caught around her temples and streaking down her chin. Definitely not the market of someone in decent health. Her hair was plastered her temples and there was an oddly warm scent coming from her hands which still glowed a bright orange. “Her powers are going haywire maybe. If she can't control them on her own…” Mantis didn't even know how to finish her statement.

“Can you do anything to help her?” Drax asks. He knew he, Rocket and Groot were out of their depth with the situation. Perhaps Gamora or Peter would have a better idea on how to help, but Mantis was definitely their best bet. She could help Carol.

Reaching one hand out to touch Carol's forehead and then moving it to her hand, Mantis knew this was serious. Even while asleep, she could sense Carol's pain as if it were her own. “I can try to force her powers down. Maybe ease her into comfort. I'm glad you haven't tried touching her hands. They're so warm, I'm afraid she might accidentally burn you.”

“Maybe you should do your mojo before she burns the house down in her sleep,” Rocket suggests. Though his tone is biting, it’s clear that he’s a little concerned about what could become of Carol, and possibly the house, if they didn’t do anything soon..

With little time left before Carol wakes, Mantis quickly sets to work at absorbing the energy from her body. It takes almost fifteen minutes before the photon power in Carol's fingers fizzes out, her hands no longer glowing. The rippling glow flower through Mantis. 

“Did you take her powers?” Monica asks, eyeing Mantis curiously. She was a bit more at ease now that Carol was no longer a threat to herself, with her powers suppressed.

“I didn't take her powers. I just used my strength to push them down below the surface again. I've used my empathic abilities to make her feel comfortable,” Mantis explains. “I'm not really sure what’s wrong with your friend, but maybe you'll want to call your mother. I think part of the reason Carol passed out is because she was overheating.”

“I’ll call Mom right now,” Monica nods, taking the phone from the bedside table where she’d left it earlier to complete Maria’s number.

* * *

Upon Peter’s request, Maria drove Gamora and him to the graveyard. The trip had been mostly quiet on Peter’s part, though Maria and Gamora tried a few times to get him to talk in an attempt to lift the mood a little.

Gamora looks over at Peter and nudges him gently. It was awkward to be traveling to some unknown destination on Earth where she would come face-to-face with Peter's grave. Even though he was still alive, just imagining seeing his grave made Gamora feel unsettled. “So, any luck at your childhood home? What did you end up finding?”

“Got some letters, new mixtapes, photos, a new Walkman…” Peter replies, patting the lid of the box once before he glances out the window again, like he’s gauging how far they are from the graves. The conversation dies down then, it seems like nobody knew what to say.

“We’re here… There ain’t many people here, so we can all go,” Maria says, pulling up. All three of them exit the car; Peter decides to leave the box in the car. 

The graveyard is situated around beautiful stretches of flowers and green grass. It seemed like a beautiful way to honor the past and the fallen. Gamora noted to herself to ask Peter later about traditions to honor fallen family members from Terra. It might not be something he wanted to talk about, but she’d always wanted to help him honor the memory of his mother. For Gamora, keeping the memories of her mother alive meant letting Peter braid her hair on occasion and wearing the various rings on her fingers. She knows he has the Walkman but she wanted him to have more than just that as a source of memories; something he could keep close to the vest wherever he went. Something that couldn't be taken from him as easily as the way Ego cracked the Walkman to pieces.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually they all find their way to two side-by-side graves. Engraved in the chipped stone are the names  _ Meredith Quill  _ and  _ Peter Jason Quill _ . Under Meredith’s name was a quote about her being the human embodiment of true love, and her dates of birth and death. Under Peter’s was a quote about him being a good person through and through. There were no dates listed on his at all. It feels odd, seeing his own grave. the fact that there’s no date noted makes it all the more surreal. There is a coffin six feet under with nothing inside, and that’s supposed to be him.

There are no words to describe how she's feeling and Gamora can only imagine what the experience is like for Peter. It must be a weird one to think that beneath the stone was an empty box where he would be. A cold feeling wrestles its way into her heart. That  _ could've  _ been him, had the events on Ego turned out differently. Her gaze traces over the engraved name and her chest feels the icy cold of fear.  _ This is what it would look like if Peter died here. This is what it could've looked like.  _ She doesn't even realize when salty tears drip down her cheeks and slip off her chin.

Maria runs a hand up and down Gamora’s back in comfort, like she knows what she was thinking. She could never imagine the magnitude of what Gamora was possibly feeling, but she knew the Guardians were tight-knit, and that’s all she needs to know that seeing Peter’s grave was agonising.

Maria's hand on her back felt so distant and far away. How could anyone express what it was like to see a grave meant for someone who never died? Twice, they had saved the galaxy together and twice, Peter nearly died for the greater good of the universe. There was no easy way of explaining that, but maybe Maria knew what it was like. She had to spend six years mourning Carol in silence and believing her best friend was dead until she turned up alive randomly one day. 

Peter chuckles dryly with no humour, saying, “Seeing my own grave really is different from imagining it.” 

Gamora just swallowed thickly and nods. Even if she had words to say, they weren't going to come out. They were caught at the back of her throat and felt trapped in her body. Even though Peter was still here, the truth was he came too close to being lost forever too many times. Staring at his grave  _ hurts  _ in ways she can't begin to comprehend or explain. 

His attention deviates from his own grave to his mother’s. It felt like his mother’s headstone should be the one with no dates instead of his. It didn’t feel right, limiting Meredith’s entire existence to two dates. She was so much more.

“Hey, Mom,” Peter speaks quietly to the headstone. “I’m sorry I ran away. And for not being there for your funeral… and for not coming home.” Without thinking, he takes a seat in the grass. His pants are probably going to be a little dirty, but he doesn’t really care.

“I… I’ve never been over losing you. You were the most important part of my life, Mom. I didn’t feel like anyone ever liked me at school or when our family met up, but I always knew you loved me and that was all I needed. Losing you is the hardest part of my life, and I’ve saved the galaxy twice. I think you would be really proud of me for that,” Peter laughs a little at the end, but it’s short-lived.

“I met Dad. He sucked. You deserved a lot better than you got,” Peter says sincerely. “He crushed the Walkman you gave me, but I found the spare one. Grandpa gave it to me. He also gave me all the letters and mixtapes you made for me.”

“Um… I love you. They got it right on your stone, you are love… I met a guy about two years after I left. His name is Milano, I loved him and then I lost him,” Peter says before he looks over at Gamora. “Then years later, I met Gamora. I love her, and you know, she’s here. I know she’s not going to leave. I’m lucky I met her,” Peter pauses for a moment before he continues, “I saw the letter you wrote for my eighteenth birthday and the Love Wins mixtape you made… It… It means a lot, knowing that you would love me no matter what. It feels…” He starts to tear up a little bit. “It feels really good knowing you were ready to accept me for anything. I’ve never been very religious, but if there was a God, he gave me his best angel to be my mom. I love you, I say that a lot, but I can’t say it enough.”

“I can’t stay on Earth for too long, but I think I’ll come back here and there to say hi to you,” Peter says, running a hand over the engraving. “I love you, Mom.”

“She would be proud of you,” Gamora murmurs quietly as Peter's fingers trace over the engraving. “Your mother always knew you were destined for great things. She knew from the moment you were little. I'm sure if she was able to see you now she would take so much pride in calling you her son. Even if this isn't something you wanted to do or tried to keep putting off, you still came and did it. You can say you did it for your mother or that you did it for you, but, at the end of the day, you did it because you wanted to. I'm proud of you, Peter.”

Peter gives a sad but grateful smile to Gamora, drying his eyes with his sleeves as he stands, laying a hand on Meredith’s headstone in silence. It was just one gesture, fingers gently touching the cold, cracked stone, but it spoke everything. It was like he just repeated every word that came out of his lips earlier.

Maria finally knew why Peter had been so hesitant about leaving the ship and then visiting Missouri. Her heart ached at his loss, how much his mother’s death had affected him. She imagined if it had been her on that mission instead of Carol, how Monica could be in Peter’s position right now, talking to her through a headstone and words travelling to an empty wooden box lying six feet underground. It was heartbreaking, just the thought of Monica being in that much pain over her. It was clear Meredith loved Peter and he knew it. Maria hoped Monica knew how much she loved her.

“Thanks for driving us out here,” Peter says to Maria. His voice was quiet, a little shaky. Maria smiles in a silent ‘you’re welcome’.

“Yeah, thank you for driving us out here. You have no idea how much this means to him,” Gamora smiled over at Maria while one of her hands reached to rest on Peter's shoulder. She never strayed too far from Quill's side, especially not when he wasn't in the best emotional state. “I'm really thankful for you helping him out. He needed this closure for years.” 

“I’m sure,” Maria replies, giving them a warm smile. She was happy that she could help Carol’s friends out, even if it was in smaller ways than saving the universe.

“Maybe I’ll just leave this,” Peter jokes, but it sounds like he’s powering through his grief. He’s talking about his own grave. “Feels weird leaving this up when I’m standing right here, but I can’t just get rid of it.” 

“It's best to leave the grave there,” Gamora agrees as she squeezes his shoulder tenderly. “It would be weird if your headstone just disappeared. They'd probably search for whoever desecrated the cemetery. Last thing you need is to be caught destroying your own grave on camera. Besides, it's here for… for when you do pass. You'll have a place to rest right beside your mom as you should.” 

It would be a lie if Peter said his heart didn’t sink after hearing that. Though he’s had close calls with death — in fact, he’d had one not too long ago — he never thought that one day, he’ll finally die and will have to truly be put in the ground. It warms his heart a little knowing that if he died, Gamora would be willing to let him rest beside his mother, but another part of him realises how unready he is to leave his family.

As a way to alleviate his own mood, Peter says to his own headstone, “Hey, Peter. The day you left, your life got worse but also got better. In a way, I guess you went to a better place. You ain’t perfect, but you’re good. You could be better, but you’re good.” 

“Sorry, guys. Give me a minute,” Maria says when her phone rings. Gamora nods her way as Maria walks a distance away, picking up the call, “Hello, baby? Anything wrong?”

“Mommy, Auntie Carol was burning up… She destroyed a statue and burned her blanket,” Monica’s voice comes through the phone, sounding very worried. “Mantis helped her, but we don’t know what’s wrong with her. She looks sick.”

“Okay, keep her cool and relaxed until I get back home, okay? Maybe take her outside, a bit of Sun could help? I’m on my way home, Monica. Wait for us,” Maria promises before she hangs up, going back to the duo.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to go back now. Carol isn’t well,” Maria says.

“What do you mean Carol isn't well?” Gamora sounds shocked and fearful. It was hard to hide such emotions in the wake of sudden news. Carol  _ never  _ got sick. “She hasn't taken ill once in the six years I knew her.”

“Then we need to get back right now,” Maria says, beginning to turn to leave the graveyard. Peter and Gamora follow her, now curious as to what’s wrong with Carol.

When they’re all in the car, Maria hits the gas. Something is wrong, and she’s determined to get back home before it worsens.


End file.
